An Idiot in Westeros
by IDon'tKnowAnyGoodUsernames
Summary: "So, uh… I don't really know how to begin. I mean, how do you even begin telling a story like mine? I'm honestly lost on what to say here. Whelp, I've already fucked up the intro to my little story so I might as well just introduce myself. My name is Archer and I, uh... I don't know how I got here, in the world of Westeros. All I know is that it's not going to end well for me."
1. Chapter 1

So, uh… I don't really know how to begin. I mean, how do you even begin telling a story like mine? I'm honestly lost on what to say here. Whelp, I've already fucked up the intro to my little story so I might as well just introduce myself. Just to give you guys an idea about who I am.

So my name is Archie, which is actually nickname for "Archer". Weird name, I know. Well, not really weird. More like uncommon. Last name's Wilder. But it's not pronounced as wilder, it's pronounced as willder. I'm 17 years old. Average height, black haired and emerald eyes. Christ, I feel uncomfortable using these unnecessarily fancy words. Just say green, for fucks sake. No need to sugarcoat the damn thing. It's _green_! It's not a fucking chaos emerald, it's not a jewel, it's green!

Shit, I'm getting off topic. See, this is why the author to this fic should write in third person. At least then I won't be ranting like a fucking lunatic! Not to mention, I swear more than a Russian playing CS: GO. So for anyone reading the first chapter to this abomination of a shit author's brainchild called a fic, I'd recommend you skip to the next chapter. Actually, I'd recommend a lobotomy instead, but that's besides the point. In any case, you'll have to wait for when this dipshit uploads chapter 2, that is. Unless you actually enjoy my idiotic thoughts, in which case, what the fuck's wrong with you? Either way, until then, you're stuck with nonsensical rants and the self-loathing of an idiotic teenager. And that's not to mention the abundance of fourth wall breaks.

At least I think its fourth wall breaks. I mean, the fact that I'm in the Game of Thrones universe without any logical explanation really sounds like a shitty fanfiction story, so I'm just going to assume that that is in fact the case. Actually, in that case, I wanna say this.

Hey, author? Go fuck yourself with a horse dildo.

I wonder how many readers must be thinking that this author is a nut-job considering that they're thinking that he's/she's insulting himself when it's actually me insulting him/her. Well, if this _is_ a fanfiction then he really is a nut-job.

Christ, I gotta stop with the fourth wall breaks in that case or I might just give myself and the author an existential crisis.

Anyways, back to the story. Or me, rather. Like I said, 17, average height, black haired and green eyed. I'm also above average in looks, not that it ever negated the fact that I'm a shit human being. I'm not actually a shit human being, like I said, self-loathing. Of topic again!

Calm down, Archie. Deep breaths.

Okay. Now, whether I'm a good or bad guy, I'll leave you to be the judges of. Born and raised in America, I lived with two fairy dads. And no, I'm not homo myself since thankfully, they realized it's called parenting and not indoctrination so they didn't impose their own orientation at me. But enough about being politically correct.

Yes, I have two fathers. I was adopted. And I gotta say. When some homophobes say that it's bad for a kid to grow up with two dads, they're not wrong. You'll either be stuck in an endless cycle of "Ask your mother" or get twice the amount of dad jokes. I suffer from the latter. And honestly, it's fucking scarring and it gave me PTSD. I still wake up screaming in the night with cold sweat dripping down my back as I hear the dad jokes echo in my mind. This shit's more scarring than when Dexter saw his mother get chainsawed into little pieces in front of him.

Off. Fucking. Topic. AGAIN!

So… I'm also a sociopath. Or rather, I have traits of one. See, my definitions of psychopath and sociopath is this:

Psychopaths love it when people get hurt.

Sociopaths don't give a shit when people get hurt.

And don't correct me about the real definitions because I really don't care.

What are my sociopathic traits, you might ask? Well, a guy was run over by a truck in front of me, his head was turned into red fucking mush and I got his blood and brains all over my face, and I wasn't bothered. I mean, I was surprised and a bit shocked and disgusted, but that wore off quickly and afterwards, I went on like nothing happened. I also usually don't give a shit about other people's opinion.

"Oh look, a seventeen year old who says he doesn't care about others' opinions, he's so edgy!"

Fuck you.

No seriously. That's not an attempt to seem cool or flippant or some shit like that. I really just can't care, no matter how much I try. At least when the opinions are negative. If they are, I suddenly stop caring. And that's not a good thing. Why, you might ask? Well, think of it like this. If a dictator ruled my country and hated me and would possibly try to kill me, I _should_ most likely give a shit since that's the smart thing to do, right? Well, I _can't_. And that's gotten me in trouble more times than I'd care to remember.

Now, why am I here? Why is this dipshit of an author writing about me? Why is this in the Game of Thrones section of Fanfiction?

Take a wild fucking guess.

Yes, it's another one of those unoriginal and shitty self-inserts. Except this time, it isn't a perfect teenage girl that Jon or Robb falls in love with after the first 3 chapters (Not that I can blame them, I mean come on, those two are like the physical manifestation of the word 'sexy', and that's coming from a straight dude). This time it's a loudmouth two-bit fruitcake with an underdeveloped right brain-hemisphere and the most warped fucking sense of humor you'll ever see. So warning for any of the touchy and whiny people, there will be offensive jokes.

Hey, it's called freedom of speech. Try to stop me. It's the author that'll get all the flak for it, so why do I give a shit?

Anyways, about _how_ I got into the world of Game of Thrones.

You see, the thing is this. I don't know jack-fucking-shit about this universe. A friend told me to watch the show, I did but got bored after the first couple of episodes. My friend told me that it would pick up speed in like the second half of the season. Unfortunately, I never got around to it. But what I did guess was that Ned Stark dies because he's played by Sean Bean. Whether that actually happened, I don't know. But I'm sure it did. In any case, I don't know anything since I didn't watch it again.

I wish I fucking did, though. At least then I'd have a goddamn clue about where I am.

So it happened like this. It was summer and I just got home from a friend's birthday party. And none of you pricks reading this better say, "You have friends?"

Sorry about that. Anyways, a friend's birthday party. So I stayed late to about 11 PM. To me, that's late. I was exhausted, my eyes were droopy and shit. So I instantly dropped on my bed. Didn't take off my clothes, no nothing. Just fell asleep the moment I touched the bed.

Another nightmare of dad jokes later and I wake up.

And this is the part where I do my storytelling using pretentious literature words.

So, let's start:

I groaned as I finally awoke from another nightmare of past horrors I've experienced. I lifted my head as I held it with my left hand and opened my eyes to look around my room with blurry eyes and dry mouth. _'Seriously, every morning it feels like a sand-elemental fucked my mouth.'_ So I reach with my other hand towards the water bottle I kept on my bed stand for this exact reason. I lazily opened my mouth and uncorked the bottle before bringing it to my parched lips and pouring the contents down. It felt like a waterfall washed away all of the dryness in my throat, cleansing it…

Okay, this is fucking ridiculous! I feel like a pompous and pretentious asshole!

Okay, okay… Calm down Archie. Swallow your pride and do this.

Once I gathered the energy, I finally heaved my body up and placed my feet on the carpet. I found that I was still wearing socks as my feet received neither warmth, nor comfort. I frown in disappointment before standing up and stretching. I moan out in pure bliss at the feeling, staying that way until my arms go limp and my back relaxes. I walk out of my room, eyes barely open as I make my way to the bathroom. Once I arrived, I turned on the sink and formed a cup with my hands before splashing the ice cold water into my open eyes, washing away the rheum.

"Oh, fuck me!" I yell out as my shirt is instantly drenched in cold water. Why do people in the commercials do it this way? It's fucking stupid.

I groan in annoyance as my eyes sting from the cold water. Sighing, I go back to my room and change. Once I do, I look myself in the mirror. I have high cheekbones, something my dads always loved about my face. Normal lips, nose, slightly chiseled jaw and shallow cheeks. Not too handsome, but sure as shit not ugly. I also had a simple short hairstyle yet slightly messy, giving it an almost spiky look. I'm wearing black jeans, a crimson shirt and a black varsity jacket. And honestly, I would have looked like an emo jock if I had longer hair. All that's left now is black lipstick and 'Bring Me To Life' playing in the background. I turn around and look over my shoulder to see the symbol on the back. A two-headed eagle spreading its wings proudly, the left half blue and the right half red. The art style reminded me of graffiti, a bit faded on the edges with rough texture.

Wait, seriously? Did this idiot just put the Infamous: Second Sons eagle logo on the back of my varsity jacket? Can you seriously be any more unoriginal? Ugh…

I shrug it off and make my way to the kitchen, still far too tired to be attentive to my surroundings. I sit down on a barstool in front of the kitchen bar. On the bar is a bowl of Cocoa Puffs that my fathers always prepare before leaving for work. They know it was always my favorite when I was younger. I grabbed the carton of milk, my grip weak, and poured the contents into the bowl before I grip my silver spoon and begin to eat my cereal. As I do, I fail to realize the giant castle on the horizon outside my window, for I am currently brain-dead with exhaustion. (I'm actually brain-dead in general. GODDAMMIT, my self loathing's at work again!)

( _At this point in the story, I gave up and decided to just tell the story from my perspective without talking like I'm Shakespeare)_

Once I finished my meal, I left the bowl in the sink after pouring hot water in, and went to leave the room when suddenly I heard something. I hear the low and echoing sound of clanging steel once. And then I hear it once more. I turn around and make my way to the front door, put on my shoes, pulling black gloves out of my pockets and put them on before grabbing the baseball bat next to the door. Yet I keep it low and hidden behind me. My hand grips the door before twisting the knob and opening it quickly. My eyes widen at the sight in front of me.

I see men wearing furs and chainmail. Some had bows and arrows while others held swords in their hands and everyone was on a horse. There were six guys. Four of them that caught my attention.

I recognized them from when I watched Game of Thrones. Eddard Stark himself held that giant ass sword of his, Robb Stark, Jon Snow and that one ugly prick that I couldn't be bothered to remember the name of. You know the womanizer? Yeah, that guy. Anyways, they were all standing there… about ten meters away from me. They all had their backs turned as they discussed something. Most likely about the house and how it appeared right out of fucking nowhere. I look around and see the vast land and green fields all around me. I realize that my house is on a hill and the castle was far off in the distance… right past a fucking forest. I close the door behind me and the sound attracts their attention.

Before I could even blink, six dudes on horses surround me with bows and swords pointed at me while I'm gripping a goddamn baseball bat. I notice that one of them is holding a Stark banner. Robb's authoritative voice demanded, "Drop your club, brigand!"

I stare at him incredulously, "What the fuck are you guys doing outside my house?"

"I said, drop it!"

I sigh internally before complying. I drop it on the ground and hold forth my gloved hands, already knowing I'm now their prisoner. No doubt, they're going to interrogate me. All I have to do is act confused like I don't know where I am. Well, I won't really have to _act_ confused. Especially not about how my house was teleported there with me. The guy with white hair and sideburns unmounted and pulled a rope from his horse to my wrist before tying it up on both ends. He took my baseball bat and mounted his horse again. It didn't take long before we were wandering into the forest. This is gonna fucking suck for my legs, I realize.

Once we finally arrived in the forest after 15 minutes, I soon began to whistle, bored out of my mind. I kept doing so, despite the obvious annoyance that were portrayed on my travelling companions' faces. But internally, I was having a meltdown. I'M IN A FANTASY WORLD!? THE WORLD OF GAME OF THRONES, NO LESS! THE WORLD WHERE EVERYONE GETS ASSFUCKED BY GEORGE MARTIN AND DIES! WHAT CHANCE DOES A LOWLIFE LIKE ME HAVE!? I ALMOST DIED OF A HEART ATTACK WHEN I OVERSTEPPED ON THE STAIRS ONCE, HOW THE FUCK AM I MEANT TO SURVIVE A FEUDAL SOCIETY CREATED BY A SICK FUCK LIKE GEORGE!?

On the outside, I was as calm as ever as I kept whistling.

The ugly womanizer snapped at me as he rode next to me, "Shut up, will you!?"

I smiled, "What are you gonna do, tie me up?" I lift my wrists mockingly. My smile fell as I stared at him dryly, "Listen here, shit-for-brains. You lot were the assholes who captured _me_. You couldn't even give me the courtesy of riding on the back of a horse with one of you, my legs hurt like hell, I think I got a mosquito bite on my neck and it's itching like a motherfucker. So you have about jack-fucking-shit to complain about compared to me." I pretended not to notice the frowns on the others' faces as they heard my potty mouth.

He glared at me before sending his fist flying at my jaw, and I let him. I staggered to the side while holding my jaw, not making a sound. I had to stagger on purpose. Damn, he had a weak punch. Maybe he really should just stick to his bows and arrows.

Robb scolded him with a commanding voice impressive for someone his age, "Theon, back down!"

Ah, Theon was his name. I remember now.

He nodded before turning to me,"Speak to your betters with more respect, outlaw!" I said nothing as i stared back at him blankly. He returned my look with a smile, "You know what Lord Stark does to brigands?"

I ask with mock innocence and curiosity, "Oh please, do tell."

"He cuts off their heads, just as he's going to do with you. I'm going to enjoy watching it happen from the window of the brothel as a whore services me," He said with a smug grin.

I looked taken aback, but did it mockingly. "Wow, you are a sick fuck if you can keep an erection up while watching someone get decapitated."

Robb burst out laughing, unprepared for the sudden amusement and was unable to stop himself. Jon was more resilient as he managed to stop himself from laughing as he tensed his jaw. The prick's smug grin fell as he glared at me furiously. He opened his mouth to try and save his pride, yet the old guy with the sideburns interrupted him before he could even start, "Be silent, both of you. Theon, we do not know yet if he is a brigand or not, so save your threats."

Ha! Eat that, asshole!

"And you."

"Huh," I say, slightly surprised out of my musing as I turned to look him in the eyes.

"Quit complaining, and stop swearing! Have some manners, for I will not hear you refer to Lord Stark or his sons with such words again. If you do in fact turn out to be a brigand, an itching neck will be the least of your worries."

"Oh, good thing I'm not a brigand, otherwise I'd have no neck at all. What is a brigand, anyway?" I genuinely don't know. But it sounds like some sort of criminal. Otherwise, they wouldn't have arrested me. Was it some sort of bandit? No, why would they have two words for bandit? That's stupid, it couldn't be.

Almost everyone turned to look at me atop their steeds with an odd look. Lord Eddard started, "You don't know what a brigand is?" I shook my head.

Theon interjected, "He's acting foolish, thinking we don't know."

"Well, _do_ you know?"

That seemed to silence him. Robb stared at me, "If I let you ride with me, will you finally be quiet?"

I stared at him and a lengthy silence dawned over us, the only sound being the hooves of the horses trampling down on twigs. "…No promises."

He motioned behind him with his head, "Get on."

The sixth guy didn't like that, "I wouldn't, my lord."

"Why's that, Jory?"

"If he was a brigand, he could easily snap your neck when he's sitting behind you."

I stared at him like he was an idiot, "And have you all fucking butcher me with swords? No thanks, I think I can resist."

I instantly mounted Robb's horse and sat behind him as the old guy gave Robb the rope that tied my hands. I settle behind him all while reluctantly trying not to rub my crotch against his ass… That was me being ironic. You know, because I wasn't actually avoiding doing it _reluctantly_ …

Moving on.

I was finally content in riding like this. The rest seemed satisfied at not having to listen to my atrocious whistling. But once again, like the obnoxious cunt I am, I was bored again and decided to make small talk. I began speaking to Robb, "So… this is quite romantic, don't you think?"

Robb frantically turned to look at me with a flustered face as the rest of the group stared at us, "W-WHAT!?"

I laughed at his reaction, "Calm down, it's called a joke." I could still see the uneasiness on the tension in his shoulders alone. I rolled my eyes at him. My head snapped to the side as I heard a sound I could only identify as whispering. Robb and the others noticed my sudden movement. I continued to stare, certain that I heard something. Once half a minute had gone by without any other disturbance, I slowly turn my head forward again. I was still suspicious yet did not voice it. The others looked at me oddly until finally Ned Flanders himself asked me, "Is there something wrong?"

I looked at him, "Hmm? No, I just… thought I heard something."

"I see." I knew that he wasn't done talking to me. I turned out to be correct when he said, "I have never seen that sigil on the back of your tunic. Are you of a noble house?"

I stared at in confusion before suddenly remembering the two headed eagle on my back."Hmm? Oh, that? No, it's just something someone very creative and original came up with on his own. Didn't get it from anywhere else, no sir."

He looked at me oddly, but continued, "I have gone hunting in these woods many times before and have passed through those hills. Yet never had I ever seen that house there before."

I sighed. "Yeah. I've been to my house several many times as well and yet never have I ever seen a giant fucking castle in the distance."

He frowned again at my language, but continued his inquiry. "So how do you explain your house being there?"

I sent him an odd look, "I'm _not_ explaining it, though. I don't know. But I'm clearly not in my own world."

Everyone turned to look at me like I was crazy. And honestly, I wish I was. Eddard started speaking slowly, not sure if he heard right, "You're… from another world?"

I mocked his slow speech, "Yes... I am."

He kept staring at me with a skeptical look, "You don't seem… fazed by it." I pretended not to notice the suspicious looks the others were giving me.

I shrugged, "Something my father told me." Or one of them, at least.

This time, Theon inquired, seeming intent on trying to expose me as a brigand, whatever that is. His voice dripped with sarcasm, "And what, pray tell, might that be?"

"He told me, 'If a problem can be solved then there is no need to worry. If a problem can't be solved, what's the point in worrying?' If I am in another world, why should I panic? It won't help me get back home, would it?"

Theon said no more and Eddard looked impressed, "Your father is a wise man…"

I smiled, "Why, thank you."

"…But I cannot trust you just yet. This is no small claim. If you truly are from another world, then we need proof."

"I could have given it to you already if you hadn't arrested me."

"But can you blame me?"

I stared at him before conceding. "I suppose not."

The ever silent Jon finally spoke as he looked at me with a curious and skeptical look., "But what makes you figure that you're in another world?"

Everyone was silent, waiting for an answer. "Well, in my world, we stopped wearing steel armor and swords hundreds of years ago. Our technology has far surpassed that. In fact, if I was an arrogant and pretentious prick, I'd go so far as to say that your society is barbaric and far more underdeveloped than mine. But thankfully, I'm humble prick so I won't be saying that."

Their eyes widened. "Truly," Eddard asked.

"Yep. I won't go into details about our technology. Not yet, at least. For now, can we at least wait until we get to your castle?"

He stared at me with an unreadable expression until he reluctantly said, "As you wish."

* * *

 **A/N: Wow. I gotta say, I'm not really sure what I should write in my very first author's note in my very first fanfic story. But just to get this out of the way, let me say that You won't see updates on this story very frequently. I only write when I feel like it, and when I'm satisfied with the chapter, only then will I upload this.**

 **Moving on. So to anyone out there that might think that this story feels familiar, it's because this prologue is heavily inspired by another author's story called House of Fury. Some of you might know this author by the name of TheGOTAddict, who is currently writing The Silent Storm. I have been sending my own little stories from time to time in emails for a while now and he's been kind enough to give me feedback. So if our writing styles may seem similar, that's why. Oh, and there won't be any sort of supernatural elements in this story carried over from House of Fury, this is purely for humour. If you could call it that.**

 **In any case, I've been dying to make a fic like this, but had no idea on how to start, so I asked for some help. TheGOTAddict decided to help me out by showing me his very first story, House of Fury. I read it and he gave me the permission to use the story as a sort of foundation and build my own way up from there. So then I created this account and have now finally uploaded the story.**

 **So big credit to my friend there.**

 **P.S. If you notice some jabs at TheGOTAddict's style of writing, story ideas, etc, in my story, then let me ease your mind by saying that it's purely for jokes. One example for a jab in this chapter was the part when I mocked him for using the Infamous Second Sons eagle in his story.**

 **But now, I wanna hear your guys' opinions. What do you think of Archer, or the story in general? Personally, I think Archer's a prick. But that's because he told me to go fuck myself with a horse dildo.**

 **Leave a review. Would love some constructive criticism.**

 **Peace... or whatever the cool kids are saying nowadays.**


	2. Chapter 2

"My lord, I trust you to have something important to share to interrupt your children's lessons," Maester Luwin said as he sat down.

Eddard had called a meeting with his wife, Maester Luwin and Rodrik Cassel. The latter there as a witness. They all sat down at a round table in the middle of the room. The master-at-arms inquired, "Has this meeting to do with… the boy, my lord?"

He nodded in confirmation, "Aye, it does, Ser Rodrik."

"The one whose wounds I tended to?" Luwin asked.

"The very same."

Catelyn finally spoke, "I must admit. That garb he wears is quite foreign, alien even."

The maester interjected, "His accent and way of speech is just as queer, and that's not to speak of the crudeness of his tongue either. He must be related to The Greatjon with the language he uses. I couldn't help but ask about his accent and where he was raised. He told me he was from a land called… 'U, S and A', I believe it was called. He said it was short of 'The United States of America.' His accent was called an American accent."

Catelyn looked at him oddly, "I have never heard of a land by that name in all my years."

"None of us have," Cassel said. He turned to his liege with a questioning look on his face.

The Lord nodded before turning to the other two. "When we had gone out to hunt in the woods, we came cross the clearing in the middle of the forest."

Luwin looked confused. "The hill?"

A nod was his response. "Aye. Except now, atop that hill was a house, the size of it close to a small manor."

"But there is no house there, my lord. At least not the last time you hunted there."

Eddard sighed, "I know." He hesitated and glanced towards Rodrik, the man nodding in encouragement despite the absurdity of what he was about to say, before turning back to them. "We caught the young boy coming out of the house. We thought him a brigand at first and had him arrested. Along the way, we started speaking to him and he was confused by the word brigand, apparently not knowing what it meant."

Catelyn leaned forward slightly, "How does he not know?"

"We explained that it was another word for bandit. Wherever he's from, his language has evolved past the common use of the word brigand."

"But _where_ is he from?"

"That… is the part which demanded all of our attentions, the reason to this meeting. He says he's… from another world."

Silence reigned over them. No one spoke a word for a while, the two who hadn't heard this revelation before were wide-eyed.

Lady Stark didn't know what to say, her mind going blank for a bit before she could finally speak. "M-my Lord husband, is this a jape?"

Cassel spoke, drawing her attention to him, "It is no jape, my lady. The boy said he is from another world, and he has promised us evidence that will solidify his claim tomorrow when we ride back to his house."

"But what if he _is_ a brigand? It could be a trap."

"He saved Robb's life, Catelyn," Lord Stark said, surprising her and Luwin.

She stared at him in surprise and shock, "What?"

He nodded, "We were ambushed by a large group of bandits in the forest. The fight was arduous. Their numbers were plenty, despite their lack of skill. Jory's leg was wounded. But their numbers were dwindling. None of us noticed that one of them had a bow and arrow. He aimed towards Robb's chest and would have pierced his heart had the boy not reacted as fast as he did. He jumped onto Robb, pushing him out of the way and shielding his body with his own. He was hit on the back of his shoulder. He saved our son's life, Cat."

Catelyn didn't know what to say, "He… I… I see. I would discuss with you later on his reward for saving Robb. Later. For now… we must speak of his claim of being from another world."

"Indeed. Tomorrow, he will show us the technology of his time. But you must refrain speaking of this in public. We must not allow word of this to escape Winterfell, at least not yet. For we cannot keep it a secret forever."

"You have my word, my love."

The maester nodded, with a curious and eager look on his face, "And mine as well, my lord. But if it is not too much trouble, I would also like to examine said technology if possible."

Eddard shook his head, "I'm afraid you will have to ask for the boy's permission. Despite his technology, everything in that house is his and his family's property, if his claim is true. And that is despite the fact that his home is on my property. But property dispute is the least of our troubles currently."

"I see. As you wish, my lord. I will be eager to hear of his response to my request."

Lord Stark stood up from his seat, "I conclude this meeting. The night has come, and I am weary. You should all rest." They nodded before standing up as well. "Dismissed."

* * *

 **Arya**

Arya couldn't believe her ears! That young stranger who had been wounded was a visitor from another world!? Not only that, but he saved her brother!? She had to tell Bran about this! She turned away from the door before running through the hallways of the castle. She wondered if she could follow them when they would go to the visitor's house.

She was snapped out of her musing, and her running as she was halted by a hand grabbing her shoulder. Jon turned her around, "And where are you going?"

"To my room!"

"And why were you running from the direction of the room where Lord Stark has his meetings?"

Arya opened her mouth, but decided not to argue. He wouldn't believe her lies, he knew her far too well.

Jon had an unreadable expression on his face, "What did you hear?"

She blurted out, "That that man saved Robb and is from another world!"

He placed his hand on her mouth. "Shh! Not so loud! Come on," He said before pulling her along so that they were alone in a room.

"Is it true?" she asked with childlike excitement.

He stared, uncertain. "I don't know if he speaks the truth… But he saved Robb. That much I know."

"But do you _think_ he's speaking the truth?"

He hesitated, obviously not wanting to sound mad. But in the end he nodded, "Aye." Arya grinned as her excitement only increased. Jon continued, "I don't know _why_ I do. But he doesn't seem to be lying. And the way he speaks, what he wears… It's like nothing I've ever heard of."

She was figuratively bouncing up and down with excitement. "Can I come with you tomorrow!?"

"You heard that too?" A nod. "Sorry, little sister. But I doubt Lady Stark would allow you to come."

Her disappointment crossed her features before Jon said, "But perhaps another time."

"But you said mother wouldn't let me."

"That's because we have no idea if the man speaks truth of if it's no more than a trap. But I doubt that is the case, considering he saved Robb's life. If he speaks the truth, he may allow us a visit to his house."

Her excitement returned, "I can't wait!"

He stopped her from running out of the room by stepping in front of her, "Don't tell anyone about this until father allows it, understood?"

She nodded, "I promise."

He smiled, "Alright. Run along now."

She did so, running to her room. She knew her mother would be cross with her if she found out she hadn't gone to sleep yet, so she did. But only to pass the time until tomorrow.

She barely got any sleep, her mind occupied by the different possibilities that the visitor's technology could do.

* * *

 **Archer's POV (No, not the porn kind! Get your mind out of the gutter!)**

Archie groaned as he woke up from his dreamless sleep. He looked around saw that he was in the room that Lord Stark had offered him to stay in, confirming that the events that happened to him was no dream itself. He really is in the world of Game of Thrones. He sighed as he felt his left shoulder ache. He pulled the comfortable and large sheet off his body and looked down to see himself shirtless. His body was thin, with little muscle, but not scrawny. Honestly, he was thin like fucking fish sticks. And he means the stick, not the fish.

And for the idiots who thought he was serious: No, he wasn't. He knows fish sticks aren't fish on a stick.

Anyhow, his body was the result of being a lazy fuck who stays in his room on his computer all day. He looked over at the bedside table and saw his folded shirt and jacket before looking at his shoulder to see that it was bandaged.

What did he get injured from, you might ask?

An arrow. No, that was not a joke, he was genuinely shot with an arrow. And it fucking hurt. But at least he saved someone's life while doing it, so at least it wasn't in vain. Still didn't make it hurt any fucking less, though.

A knock was suddenly heard at his door and he stood before walking over to it. As he did, he moved his shoulder and found that it didn't hurt as much as before. Weird, he thought it would have ached more during recovery. But he sure as shit wasn't complaining. His eyes were droopy as he was still tired. He opened the door to see a maid. Her eyes widened and she looked flustered, "O-oh, forgive me, Ser. I'll wait until you are in a more appropriate state."

He sighed in annoyance. Why did the author have to give him a blushing maid? Oh god, Archer hopes he wouldn't turn into a womanizer OC that would seduce every hot girl just because they're hot and bang them! He may be a hormonal teenager, but at least he has some dignity and original personality! As shit as that personality might be of course, but still! Better than a womanizer OC in a fanfiction.

"Stop blushing and tell me what you want."

"L-lord Stark requests your presence."

He had a bored look on his face. "Where and why?"

"He wishes for you to break your fast with the Stark family."

He stared at her with a blank look. "I don't know what breaking my fast is. How can you break a fast?" She opened her mouth to answer, until a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Wait, do you mean breakfast?" She nodded, having never heard it put that way. But they were similar enough words.

He sighed, this time quietly through his nose before muttering quietly to himself, "Fucking medieval language, man." He spoke in a normal voice, "Just wait. I'll go put something on." Closing the door before the maid could respond, he turned around before putting on his crimson shirt and black varsity jacket before opening the door again. "Lead the way."

She nodded before obeying and leading him through the numerous hallways of the castle. He missed the maid's smile that appeared on her face as she heard him talk to himself, "Can't wait to get lost in here sometime."

They stopped in front of a wooden double doors with circular handles. The maid stopped and stood to the side, motioning towards the doors, "In there, Ser." Archie nodded his thanks and gripped the door handles before opening the doors and walking inside, rubbing his exhausted eyes. When he opened his eyes again, he froze with wide eyes at the sight in front of him.

All the Starks, excluding Jon, sat at a longtable littered with food. Bread, dairy products, stews and a bunch of other shit he'd never seen before in real life, only in movies. Honestly, it was rather surprising for someone who literally eats fucking Cocoa Puffs nearly every morning. Servants were walking in and out of the room, bringing them new stuff to eat. Lord Stark sat at the end of the longtable next to Catelyn. On the right side sat Arya, Bran and Rickon while on the left side sat Robb and Sansa. All of them looked towards the guest that had joined them. Arya and Bran had excited expressions and were both shit at hiding it.

Archie stood there, frozen still like a statue, his eyes glancing between them all, "…I see you brought the whole family here…"

Lord Stark nodded before motioning to the opposite end of the table, "Sit."

"Oh-kaaay…" He said with an uncertain voice before slowly walking over to his seat while taking off his jacket. He folded it before sitting on the small bench and putting it next to him. He looked around at the servants with furrowed brows in confusion, "Sorry if I look like a confused toddler who just walked on his parents arguing. It's just that I'm not used to…" He suddenly shrugged while motioning around the room, "Well, this."

"Understandable." He motioned a servant girl over towards Archie who placed down bread and salt.

He stared at it with a blank face before blinking and moving his eyes to Ned. "What is this?"

"Bread and salt."

"Sorry, let me rephrase that. _Why_ is this?"

He had a look of realization on his face. "Ah. Forgive me. In our customs we invoke the guest right by offering the guest bread and salt."

Archie nodded before staring. He suddenly asked, "What's the guest right?"

While Eddard was explaining, the rest of the family were sending him odd looks, looking at him as if he was an idiot. Not surprising since he was one. "It is a right that is invoked when the guest eats under the host's roof. This means that neither the lord, nor the guest, can harm one another."

"Good to know," he said as he nodded with an uneasy smile.

Eddard motioned servant to Archie. "What would you like, m'lord?"

Archie looked at her in surprise, "I'm not a lord, thank you. But would you happen to have bacon?"

"Of course, m'lord," she nodded before walking out of the room, not noticing her mistake.

He stared after her before throwing his hands up slightly in exasperation, "Alright, well I guess I am a lord, then."

They looked at him in amusement, except for Arya and Bran who couldn't contain their giggles. Lady Catelyn placed her cutlery down before speaking to him, "I believe I haven't heard your name yet, Ser."

"No, you have not. The name's Archer."

Sansa had heard how this stranger saved her brother's and unknown to him, she'd been staring at him with admiration, though she hid it well enough for him not to notice. Arya rolled her eyes at her sister's antics. She just had to fall in love with every person she saw as a white knight. Not that she could blame her _this_ time. This man did save their eldest brother after all.

She spoke timidly, "It's a beautiful name, Ser."

Archie nodded with a smile, "Thanks. Got it for my birthday." The room fell silent, his smile was still plastered on his face until he realized what he just said as his smile fell and he face-palmed, "Oh my god, I'm an idiot." This time, every one burst out in laughter besides Ned and Catelyn who simply chuckled, and young Rickon who looked at everyone in confusion, failing to realize the irony in what Archie said.

Archie muttered quietly to himself, "Christ, I'm too tired to brain this morning."

Lord Stark shook his head in amusement before glancing towards his wife and nodding. Catelyn continued, "I wish to thank you."

He removed his head from his hand and looked at her in confusion, "What for?"

"You saved my son's life. You were taken as a captive and yet you almost died protecting a stranger whom you barely knew." He would've corrected her on Robb being a stranger to him. But then he'd have to explain everything about the TV Show and the books and whatnot. He really didn't have the energy for it. Nor the brain capacity.

Goddamn self-motherfucking-loathing again!

A servant brought a jug of water before pouring it into Archie's silver goblet. Damn, these people lived like… Well, lords. He nodded his thanks to the servant, who smiled.

Robb looked at Archie once his laughter had dissipated, "I thank you as well. I won't forget what you've done for me anytime soon."

Archie shrugged, staring as he didn't know how to respond. He settled for a simple, "Don't mention it," as he brought the goblet to his lips.

The young lord smiled, "Your humility is well received. But I would see you rewarded."

The water caught in his throat as he coughed and lowered the goblet to the table. He held his closed hand to his mouth and coughed until he calmed down, all while the children had amused looks at his misfortune. He cleared his throat. "A reward?"

Eddard glanced at his son's skill as a courteous host with pride before turning to their guest, "Aye. We would usually have a ceremony in front of the court when granting a boon-"

"-Please don't," Archie said pleadingly.

"I said usually. This is not such an occasion. I had a feeling you wouldn't want it."

"You did?"

"Aye. You're from another world and I imagined that our customs and culture would be different."

His eyes widened as he looked at the Stark children. "I'm guessing they know."

Eddard nodded, "I called them for an early gathering in my solar. I revealed everything. But do not fret. They have all given their words that they will not reveal it to anyone else without your permission."

"Oh…" He glanced between all the children. "I suppose as soon as I'm finished eating I'm going to be bombarded with questions."

"No doubt," Robb chuckled. He motioned his head towards Arya. "Her especially."

Arya frowned before sticking her tongue towards her brother. Sansa gasped, "Arya!? We've a guest under our roof!"

Archie chuckled, and Arya smiled towards him. He looked at Eddard before motioning towards her with his head, "I like her already."

She beamed proudly and he winked mischievously towards her before the servant from before brought a wooden plate with bacon on it. He took it from her with a thankful nod and began eating.

* * *

 **A/N: Fast update, I know, right? I hope you find this fic amusing, and if not then congrats, you're a sane human being.**

 **Let me know what you think in the reviews.**

 **And for the already existing reviews, I've gone ahead and decided to answer some of them every chapter.**

 **Not really that many reviews currently, but I'm not complaining. I appreciate the support of the four people that DID review.**

 **Guest: Oh, there'll be plenty of those, trust me.**

 **CamFou182: I'm glad. I thought that maybe I overdid it, but it seems at least you enjoyed it.**

 **Until next time.**


	3. Chapter 3

Archie walked into the courtyard of Winterfell and saw the holy trinity, Robb, Jon and Theon, saddling their horses. Eddard wasn't there yet, but he would be soon, Archie was sure. The lord decided to spare his sorry ass from being bombarded with questions by the Stark children and allowed him to prepare himself for a 45 minute ride back to his house. God, it was gonna fucking suck. He really wished he'd brought phone and headsets to at least be able to listen to some music. But nope, fuck that. He instead had the pleasure of getting to listen to 'The Requiem of Horse Hooves' composed by 'Winter, the horse of Robb Stark'.

It was usually satisfying to him hearing horse hooves stomping gently against the ground, but after having listened to it for nearly an entire hour, he began to hate it. It was actually sort of like finding a good song you like and then proceeding to ONLY listen to that one song for about a week until you finally fucking hate it.

His mind shifted to another subject, suddenly and randomly as he tended to do, and looked down at his shoes. He really should've put on boots instead, his shoes were being ruined. He honestly couldn't give a shit if it looked good, but he'd much rather have good shoes without any holes or tears in it. He looked up and his eyes scanned his surroundings. He had just passed underneath a large castle archway connecting two big rectangular castle towers. The stones that the castle was built of seemed grey, as most things did in Winterfell. Even the very atmosphere.

He hates grey. The colour makes him feel… dull and depressed in a way. But not in the 'crippling clinical depression and severe social anxiety' type of way. Just… dull and somber, honestly.

Anyways, to his left a wooden wall barely above the archway entrance's height connected the castle tower to his left with another one in front of it. A few vines and plants had grown in large, square plant pots placed against the wall. To Archie's right, in front of the other castle tower, two houses were connected as well by a wooden archway leading to a smaller courtyard inside that in turn led to someplace called 'The Godswood' as he might have overheard from Ned and Cat. The two houses were occupied by guards on the second floor watching over the courtyard from the railing. A few workers had placed ladders against the railing and climbed up with sacks over their shoulders. He had no idea what was in them though.

He snapped himself out of his thought as he realized the three had noticed him, and Theon and Robb had begun walking towards him. As always, Jon stayed behind with the horses, always seeming a bit more reclusive and somber than the others. Well, a _lot_ more reclusive and somber actually. Theon seemed to be walking a bit ahead of his friend, and stopped in front of the outlander. "So… It seems you weren't a brigand after all."

Archie flashed a smile, "How observant! Did you figure that out before or after I took an arrow up my fucking ass for Robb's sake?"

Theon looked a bit taken aback by Archie's rather… eloquent way of putting what happened and his rude bluntness. "I-It… It was on the shoulder, actually…"

He rolled his eyes as his fake smile fell, "I know where I got the fucking arrow, I was the one who got shot by it!"

Theon frowned, his annoyance evident on his face. "Look, what I'm trying to tell you is that I'm sorry for being a prick towards you!"

His eyes widened slightly, and he could see that it was difficult for him and his pride to allow him admitting a mistake. It no doubt took some convincing by Robb, he guessed. Theon slowly held out his hand, putting on a disinterested face. But Archie could tell he cared. "Peace?"

Archie stared at his hand for a while, contemplating. His eyes suddenly flicked up towards Theon as his right hand gripped his. Archie suddenly pulled Theon towards him as his left fist flew towards his face. It connected with a rather loud smack, and the heir to the Iron Isles exclaimed in pain as he staggered backwards, holding his cheek. Robb quickly dashed forward and placed his palm on Archie's chest, expecting him to continue his assault. He realized that was not his intention as the teen held up his hands in surrender, backing away in case Robb prepared to punch him.

Robb turned around and walked over to his friend, who had been slightly keeled over and was holding the right side of his jaw. They both turned to look behind Robb when Archie had walked over to him, "Now we're even." He held out his hand in the same manner that Theon did. "Peace?" Theon glared at him before his eyes calmed down and he realized he had it coming. He slowly accepted the hand, his other still on his cheek.

Once they'd shook hands, Archie said, "Oh come on, my limbs are weak as shit. They're basically fucking twigs, no way did it hurt _that_ much?" Theon looked slightly embarrassed and glared softly at him before removing his hand. Once Archie examined where he struck, he waved it off, "Oh, don't worry. Thing won't probably even continue aching for the next few minutes."

They had to admit, they were a bit surprised by how Archie wasn't afraid of pointing out his weakness, in his case his frail body. A rare trait in a feudal society of proud lords and knights, and proud men in general.

Archie's eyes wandered behind the two and to the horses. He realized that there were five of them instead of four. "Someone else coming with us?"

Robb gave him a confused look, "Yes, you."

His face turned blank, "Oh yeah, right." He was grateful he didn't have to grip the handle of the saddle behind him like he did when Robb gave him a ride. Now he had his own horse.

He walked past them and arrived in front of the cinnamon coloured horse. His hand slowly and rather nervously wandered to its head and slowly began to pet it. It seemed to appreciate the attention and allowed him to continue. A rather quiet voice behind him spoke, "You act as if you've never seen a horse before."

Archie turned his head to look at Jon while he kept petting the horse, "Well, I haven't. Not in person, anyways."

"You've never seen a horse before?" Robb asked incredulously, as he and Theon had walked back to their horses.

"Nope."

"I understand if you've never ridden one before but… to never have seen one?"

He shrugged, "Suppose it's a bit odd for you. But very few people in my world even use horses anymore. Most of the people who do, do it for some competition or race. Never for transport though."

"Then how do you cross large distances?" Theon asked.

"What we use as a means of transport?" He nodded in response. "Well, different things actually. Most common ones are vehicles such as cars and motorcycles."

"What?" They all asked in unison, echoing each other. They traded slightly amused glances before turning back to Archie. Archie furrowed his brows at them and stopped petting the horse and faced his body towards them. This time, an adult voice rang throughout the courtyard, and Archie turned his head to see Ned walking towards them. "What were they called?"

"Cars and motorcycles, but you can call the latter a bike instead if you want." Archie noticed offhandedly that he was wearing those big fur coats. "Okay, seriously, how the fuck aren't your shoulders hurting from those coats?" He turned back to see the younger three staring at him. "No seriously, they're barely smaller and thinner than a fucking living room carpet."

"You get used to them," Ned answered, his voice a bit serious. "Now, what are these…'Cars and bikes'?"

Archie crossed his arms and looked thoughtful, muttering to himself, "Great, how the fuck am I meant to describe them?" They all stared expectantly at him, until his face suddenly light up as he snapped his fingers, "Ah-ha." He turned to face them, "Think of the car as a… carriage. Yeah, a horseless carriage that moves by itself."

"A horseless carriage? Sounds like something taken out of a mummer's tale!" Theon said.

Archie stared, "Okay, so I'm going to pretend I know what the fuck a mummer is and continue-"

"But how does it work?" Jon interrupted, unable to stop himself. He had an apologetic look in his eyes as he realized his rudeness, but Archie ignored it. It didn't really bother him.

"Well, I don't know exactly how. An engine moves the wheels and inside the carriage is something called a 'steering wheel'. It's a smaller wheel that you turn in the direction that you want to turn the car. There's a lot more to the car than simply transportation, and even the way it moves is complicated, but I'll tell you about it later."

They all had amazed looks, almost like that of a child. Except for Ned. He simply looked thoughtful, his chin held between his finger and thumb. "How fast does it carry you?"

"Well, let's see. The horse ride took us about 45 minutes at a horse's walking pace from my house to Winterfell…" He soon began to mumble incoherently to himself as he counted in his head. "It should take about 5 minutes with the car."

This time, everyone's eyes widened as they stared at him in disbelief. Even the stern and serious Ned began stuttering like an embarrassed dork who had just been approached by his crush. "F-f-five m-minutes? The entire distance takes a mere five minutes?"

He nodded, "Mhm, that is if we make a straight beeline without stops. Or even faster if I wanted to, but considering I have to drive through a fucking forest, that wouldn't be very safe, now would it?" Thankfully, the road in the forest they travelled on was wide enough for his car.

"Amazing!" Jon exclaimed. "Is this the extent that technology takes us?"

"Fuck no! I haven't even scratched the surface for you guys."

They all suddenly looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Look, like I said, I'll tell you all about it later. For now, let's get to my house. I'll even tell you about the bike along the way."

Eddard nodded, "As you wish. I took the liberty of bringing a detachment of my household guard to escort us through the forest, they're waiting outside the city walls for us. We doubt there will be anymore bandits remaining in the forest, at least a band of them large enough to assault us, but caution has never harmed anyone. And I've brought your club with me, and if it turns out you speak the truth you shall have it back immediately." He motioned his head towards the horse behind Archer. "I also had the stablemaster give you one of his strongest horses, nearly a full grown mare. She's still young, and haven't got a real name yet."

"Oh. Thanks." He turned around and stared into the horse's eyes. They looked like thick silver rings. "Can I name her?"

"If you wish it."

Archie hummed to himself. He stared at the horse for a long time, the four of them growing rather impatient. "Cinnamon," he announced suddenly as he turned to face them. They looked at him with raised eyebrows. "What?"

Theon shook his head with a smile, walking to his own horse while Robb did the same. Jon shrugged, "Nothing. Just… an uncommon name, is all."

Archie waved them off as he too walked to his horse, "Whatever." He attempted to mount his new steed, but failed because of his uncanny ability to fuck up the most mundane things. Theon laughed at him, causing him to call out, but not snap at him, "Shut up!"

Finally he was successful as he placed his skinny ass on the saddle. He spoke in a stiff voice as he adjusted himself on his seat, "Hold on… just gotta… adjust my balls…" He let out a small sigh of relief as he settled down, "There we go."

He turned his head to see Theon staring with that cocky fucking smile of his, Robb and Jon with slightly disgusted expressions, "What? Don't pretend as if you guys don't do the same."

Jon answered, "It's not that the act itself is repulsive, speaking of it while you're doing it in public is-"

"What, frowned upon? Don't pretend as if you guys don't stare at a girl's ass when they walk by. You still do it, even if you don't talk about it. At least I'm not ashamed of being truthful."

Jon's cheeks reddened faintly, yet was interrupted before he could say anything by his father, "Do not argue with our guest, he is right. What he does is no more perverse or 'repulsive' than you leering at a woman passing by." Archie smiled, yet the smile was quickly removed by Ned turning his attention to him, "However, it would do for you to keep such… personal details to yourself." He gave a simple nod in response. "Now, shall we be off? I would hear of this… _bike_ you speak of."

"Alrighty, let's get to it, then!" he said as the others began riding to the now rising portcullis. He suddenly let out a rather short high-pitched scream, yet not enough to be considered feminine. The others turned their heads towards him in concern to see that he held the reins of his horse close to his chest as the horse strode forward, his eyes wide in nervousness as he stared at it, his back stiff. Eddard smiled as the younger three laughed at Archie's expense.

Archie's head snapped towards Ned in panic, "Help me, I've no idea how to fucking ride a horse!"

Eddard soon began to laugh alongside the other three when Archie hissed loudly at his horse, "Cinnamon! Cinnamon, I'm warning you! I swear to god, Cinnamon!" The horse suddenly neighed, and he let out another short scream, "AH! How the fuck do I use the reins!?" Even the usually quiet Jon began to laugh uncontrollably at him.

He spoke between each laughter, "Just pull… the bloody reins back…"

Archie did as he said and the horse slowed down to a stop. He breathed out in relief. "Thanks."

"Think nothing of it," Jon said with an amused smile.

He glared at the other three, "Yeah, wish you pricks would help instead of laughing your asses off."

* * *

 **Later**

He was now in the middle of explaining a motorcycle in a way that these dickheads would understand. And while doing so, he also got the hang of controlling Cinnamon, not that it's very hard to considering they've been riding in a straight line on a road. Four household guards came with them, two riding before them a good distance to make sure there are no ambushes waiting and the other two rode a good distance behind them, making sure they weren't being followed.

"…So essentially, a motorcycle is a mechanical horse that has wheels for legs."

They all had a look of almost childlike amazement at hearing him describe the type of transport the people of his world used.

"Your people must have great minds to be able to create such technology," Eddard commented.

"Yep. Our scientists never really rest and just keep coming up with new shit, most of which I don't even know about probably. Of course, most of the shit that they come up with begin as prototypes and it's never really guaranteed that they'll work the way they are in the start. Suppose it's up to Trial and Error at that point."

The lord let out a small chuckle, his mind still amazed by what he was hearing. "It's a shame we won't be able see this motorcycle with our own eyes."

"Who said you won't?" Archie asked, confused.

"I was under the impression that you only possessed a car."

"I have both."

His eyes widened, "You do?" Archie nodded. "Where do you store them? With the way you describe them I'd assumed them to be rather large."

"We have something called a garage for that."

Theon interjected suddenly, "Would that be the building next to your house with the gate as an entrance?"

Archie turned his head to face him, "A gate? What, no. The rectangular storage unit next to my house is the garage."

"Yes, the one with a gate."

He stared at Theon with a deadpan expression, "You call that door a fucking gate?" He opened his mouth to argue, but Archie cut him off, "Y'know what, nevermind, we're literally from two different fucking worlds so it'd be far too idiotic to even try and compare our words and their meanings." Theon shrugged in response, which he took as an agreement. "Good. But in any case, yes the garage is the building next to my house. And the entrance is called a garage door."

"How would you go about opening it?" Robb asked with a curious look. "I couldn't see a knob or handle to open it."

Archie began, "Well, there's actually-" before suddenly stopping himself. "Y'know what? It's better if I show you."

A disappointed look crossed his eyes, but he nodded nonetheless. And before anyone else could begin asking anymore questions, Jon spoke, "I don't believe I've heard your name before." He paused before adding, "Forgive me if I seem blunt or rude to ask out of nowhere." Archie frowned slightly. Why would he think that would be a rude question? What, was Jon not familiar with the concept? He knows Jon is a bastard, but still, was he really that unfamiliar with interacting with people other than his father and siblings?

He spoke with an uncertain voice, "Don't know why that would be rude, but okay. Name's Archer. Archer Wilder."

Jon nodded, "Ah… A pleasure to meet you, Archer…"

Archie's odd look only got odder, before suddenly turning to face Lord Stark, "Okay, so am I missing something?"

Confusion crossed the lord's features, "I fear I don't follow."

"The guy's as shy as a schoolgirl talking to her crush." Jon's cheeks reddened in embarrassment and he stared forward. Theon chuckled at his expense. Archie turned to look at Jon, but kept speaking to Lord Stark, "Now, I don't mean to be rude or insulting, but he seems like he isn't used to being social."

"It's because he isn't," Robb said suddenly, his voice absent of any former curiosity and now only portrayed a sort of stern coldness.

"Why not?"

"Because he's a… bastard." Robb clearly hesitated to say the word, and Archie's brows furrowed.

"That's not very nice." This time, everyone including Jon, turned their heads towards him. "Why would you call him a bastard?" Jon looked forward again, and frowned, mistaking his words for hatred against bastards. "What?" he asked, suddenly noticing the almost hostile looks everyone but Theon was giving him. An awkward silence lasted for a good bit until Archie's eyes widened, "Oooooh! I get it!" Now, their cold stares turned into a look of confusion. "You mean literally a bastard! As in born out of a marriage! Aha, that makes a lot more sense now."

"What did you think I meant?"

"I thought you meant bastard as in the insult!"

Jon couldn't keep himself form speaking, nor could he keep the resentment from his voice, "Isn't being a bastard an insult to you?"

Archie looked confused and faced Jon, who was still staring forward, "What, no! I don't give a shit if you're a bastard or not! Why the fuck would I?!"

Everyone's eyes widened in surprise by his words, and Jon faced him. Yet it was Theon who answered his question, "Because bastards are cursed by the gods."

Archie had a blank smile on his face with a 'are you fucking kidding me' look in his eyes as he slowly turned his head to the other side and looked at Theon. Greyjoy looked surprised at seeing the bizarre expression he had. They stared at each other, Archie keeping the same expression unchanged like stone. "Was that a joke?"

He looked taken aback. "A joke? Why would you assume that?"

Now, Archie's expression truly looked like a 'are you fucking kidding me' look and not just in the eyes. He tilted his head slightly and stared with a deadpan look at Theon, as if he was the camera and Archie was in an episode of 'The Office'. "Repeat what you just said and you should realize the idiocy in your statement."

Theon did just that, mumbling what he said quietly to himself and failing to realize anything idiotic about it. Archie rolled his eyes, "Oh for the love of- You're really going to use gods as an excuse to hate a bastard?"

"It's not an excuse, that's what all priests say."

"Look, if that's true, then your gods are fucking idiots, no offence." Jon couldn't help the small smile from forming on his lips as Archie defended him.

"How can you insult the gods?" Theon asked with a frown. Not an angry one, but rather a confused one.

"Cuz I don't believe in 'em."

His and Robb's eyes widened, as the latter asked, "You don't believe in a god?"

Archie shook his head, "Nope. Don't believe in jack-shit."

Theon stared at the ground in front of him before turning back towards him, "Then how do you know how you should act?"

"Coming from the guy who's a whoremonger despite what your religion says about whoring?" Archie was going out on a limb right now. He didn't actually know anything about his religion.

That shut him up as he had a defeated look on his face. Surprisingly, Eddard was the next to speak, "Morality should not be based on what the gods tell you, they should be based on who you are yourself. Using morality as an argument in a theological debate is nothing short of folly."

"Exactly," Archie said with a victorious smile. And just when Eddard was about to continue, he interrupted him, "Now, before you say anything-" The lord and his sons frowned when Archie interrupted him. But Archie ignored it and continued, "-You can believe in anything you want. I'm not one of those asshole nihilists who's gonna mock you and your religion. Because you can believe in a fucking fairy god who shits rainbows for all I care. Just as long as you don't shove it in everyone's faces, I'm gonna have no problems at all with what you believe in. It's your right as a living creature to believe in what you want. Hell, I'll even defend your right to do so."

This silenced everyone, as their respect for this new outlander grew. "Jesus Christ, that derailed quicker than an unstable bullet train in a third world country." Everyone was confused by what he said as they had no clue what a bullet train was. "We went from me asking why your son is shy to a religious debate."

They all let out a chuckle, dissolving any remaining tension. "No, but seriously." He turned to look at Jon. "Jon?" The bastard turned towards him with a surprised look at hearing Archer call him by his first name. "Listen. I couldn't give two shits about you being a bastard, okay?" Jon stared in surprise before nodding. "Good. Now, I'm going to treat you as disrespectfully as I would anyone else. And don't worry about seeming blunt or rude when you're talking with me, because it's impossible to be any ruder than I am. I don't know how people treat bastards in your society, but I'm guessing it's negative. In any case, it won't matter to me if you were a bastard. If you're an asshole, I'll treat you like one. If you're a good dude, then I'll treat you like one. Understood?"

He nodded, and remained silent for a bit before adding, "My gratitude."

Archie nodded and looked forward, "Don't mention it."

Eddard and Robb smiled, glad that Archer would treat him as he would anyone else, while Theon rolled his eyes. "Oh, and all of you call me Archie."

"Archie," Robb repeated in confusion.

He nodded at him, "Yep. If you want to, I mean. Most people who know me do."

A comfortable silence fell on them as their horses strode and carried them closer to his house. Soon Jon couldn't help but ask, "How do your world view bastardy?"

"Well, bastardy to us is literally nothing more than a word used several hundred years ago. Nowadays we call people bastard to insult them, it's sort of like calling someone a prick, but most people don't even know the actual meaning of the word."

Now they were _very_ surprised. "Truly?" Jon asked in disbelief.

Archie nodded, "Well yeah. You know how old I was when I first found out what a bastard actually was?" He shook his head, his curiosity peaking once more. "Fifteen."

They were all shocked to silence. "Is there no sort of prejudice against bastards at all?"

He shook his head, "Not a single fucking thing."

Jon chuckled, almost amazed at hearing that, "Your world has not only progressed in technology but also in tolerance it seems."

"Not really."

Confusion riddled their minds and Eddard rode next to Archie, "Why so?"

"Well, people are just as intolerant, except now it's just about different things than before. And that's all I'm saying on the matter." They all accepted his words and kept riding in silence. This time, no one broke it until they finally arrived at the clearing. They spotted his large house on top of the hill and rode uphill until they finally arrived and dismounted their steeds. "Wow, it feels so fuckin' bizarre to see my house in this place."

"It's very large," Robb commented before turning to Archie, "Is it common to have a home of such… stature, Archie?"

Archie smiled at hearing Robb say his name. "Nope."

His eyes widened, "No? So you're a special case?"

"I am. My parents are actually very rich. Thankfully, they're not assholes and realized that I shouldn't be pampered and arrogant so they taught me humility. And they also didn't buy anything I asked for, thank god."

The heir of Winterfell smiled, "You're parents are wise people."

Archie smiled at him, approving of the compliments given to his dads. "Indeed they are." Oh he couldn't wait to see their reactions when they find out they're both fairies.

"So that's a garage?" Theon asked, examining the garage door as his eyes scanned it for something. "I think you'll have to show us how to open the gate."

Archie sighed, and muttered quietly to himself, "Stillnotafuckinggate."

"What was that?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, yet calmly. He walked over to the front door and turned around, facing the four of them and noticed the other four guards riding uphill. "Now… Prepare to have your mind blown!" He announced with a grin before turning around and walking inside.

Or so he thought he would. As it turned out, the door was closed and seeing as Archie was a complete fucking retard, he walked into it and let out a short grunt of pain before falling backwards on the ground while holding his nose. Theon laughed loudly at him, while Robb held in his own laughter. Eddard shot them a scolding look, removing any sort of amusement from them as both their smiles fell. Jon stepped forward and helped him up. "Thanks," Archie said with a nod, sounding like he was a trumpet of sorts as holding his nose muffled his voice slightly.

Jon nodded, "Of course."

Archie waved his other hand into the air, "You know what, fuck being a show off, let's just go inside." His hand gripped the knob of the door to his house, and he clenched it tightly.

And in the next few minutes, the Starks would have their entire lives and fate changed by this young, idiotic teenager and his foreign technology.

* * *

 **A/N: So there you have it. Nothing to say honestly.**

 **mpowers045: Not decided yet. But it won't be decided soon, since I've just started this story.**

 **Review, favorite and follow if you enjoyed.**

 **And Samuel? Eat a dick! (That's for a Samuel that I know personally, and I know he'll be reading this, it's not for Samuels in general)**


	4. Chapter 4

Archie opened the door and stepped inside before motioning for them to enter. They exchanged surprised glances for some reason, and stared for a while at each other, something Archie noticed, before they did as he said after he took off his shoes and stepped into the hallway. But as they did, Eddard walked slowly first and held out his hand as if trying to touch something. He froze when he touched the doorframe and seemed surprised that nothing happened.

' _The fuck is he doing?_ ' Archie thought to himself.

Eddard glanced backwards at the younger three to see them just as surprised as he was before Ned was first to enter, followed by Robb, Jon and Theon respectively. Archie repressed a grin as he watched them standing uncomfortably and cramped, looking around in the odd small area they stood in. Clearly they haven't seen an entrance mat, or an area to place their shoes/boots as they've only lived in a castle. And he doubted they had an entrance mat in a castle. Ned moved to enter the hallway, but was stopped by Archie, "Whoa, whoa! What do you think you're doing!?"

Ned frowned angrily at the disrespect shown to him despite being a lord. "Is there a problem?"

"Yeah, you're gonna dirty the fuckin' carpets, that's the problem! My parents would have my ass on a plate if the carpets get dirtied because of me! Who the hell'd you learn your courtesies from? Go on, get!" He said with his own frown as he urged him back into the cramped space and looked behind the lord at the other three, "You three better take 'em off too!"

They had to admit, they were rather surprised by how seemingly fearless he was. He didn't hesitate to swear or to order nobles around, especially a Lord Paramount. That may have something to do with being from another world where feudal societies have died out, but the fact that his people are well educated about lords still remains. The three young teenagers had a feeling Lord Stark's patient would be worn thin by the end of this. In fact, they were surprised he lasted this long. In any case, they all did as he commanded, removing their boots and placing them neatly against the wall.

"Damn savages," he mumbled quietly to himself as they finally stepped on the long hallway carpet. Thankfully, they hadn't heard… Huh… these guys had socks in their time? That's odd, he didn't know that. He dismissed the matter and watched as they looked around, unfamiliar with walls that aren't made of stone.

"It's rather dark in here," Eddard said, not being able to see anything except the walls next to him. "Do you have any candles to light?"

"No, but I have a lamp." He suddenly looked up and spoke in a loud voice, as if talking to the house. "Lights!" The other four were surprised to see several glass orb on the ceiling illuminate the entire hallway very brightly.

They looked at the lamp in amazement. They turned their gazes towards Archie, and Theon said, "What manner of magic is this?"

He stared with a dumbfounded expression, "Maybe you missed the part where I said I'm from another world where our technology has far surpassed yours?" Greyjoy had a sheepish look on his face, and Archie began walking down the hallway with the four in tow. "The tiny microphone detects the sound of my voice and turns on the lamp, it all runs on electricity as well. Think of it as fuel for my technology and devices."

He motioned to a rather wide opening that was the entrance to his very large kitchen, "That's my kitchen, I won't be explaining the bullshit in there cuz it'll take too damn long."

They were amazed by the size of it. Sure, they might have an even larger kitchen in the castle, but this was just a house. The size was impressive for a simple home. It was completely white with the lamp brightening the room well. Light blue colour illuminated from the bottom of the fridge and stove as small, thin lamps were installed on the edge. Behind the kitchen bar were most of the appliances, fridge, freezer, stove, microwave and several cabinets. In front of the kitchen bar was the table where they ate dinner together. It was large for a family of only three, but very useful if they had guests over. Better safe than sorry.

"This is unlike anything I've seen before," Lord Stark said. He stared at the kitchen with curious eyes and his voice was amazed, "Perhaps you are speaking the truth."

Archie shrugged, "Well yeah, that's the reason I'm trying to convince you, because I'm speaking the truth. Well, that and I also don't wanna be thrown into a medieval dungeon."

"Medieval?"

"Yeah, that's my world's term for the Middle-Ages, what you now consider to be current times."

"Interesting," Ned said to himself, fascinated by how Archie considers them to be ancient. Perhaps they could show each other how things worked in their own respective times.

"What is this?" Theon asked suddenly. They all turned their heads to see him staring at the calendar on the wall. "June? What's a June?"

Archie stared at him, dumbfounded, "It's a month."

"You name your months?"

"You don't?"

"No," He answered as if it was obvious.

"Then how do you keep track of what month it is?"

"We call them moons turns."

Archie looked something akin to a goldfish, mouth opening and closing as he tried to make sense of how they kept check of days, months, seasons and years.

"Different worlds," Robb said suddenly.

Archie snapped out of his stupor and nodded, thankful that he didn't have to spend time using his brain to make sense of what he was told by Theon, "Y-yeah exactly, thank you, Robb."

Robb smiled proudly and nodded. Before Archie could lead them out of the room, Theon asked, "What year is it? In your world, I mean."

"Why don't you look?"

"How?"

"It's on the cover of the calendar."

He followed Archie's instructions and took the calendar off the wall before looking at the cover of it. His eyes widened and his jaw slacked. Archie looked confused. "I thought you said it was only a few hundred years ago since your world was at our current level of technology!?"

"Well… yeah. I mean, that's assuming we started keeping track the same amount of years ago."

"Well we clearly didn't!"

"Why's that?"

Theon suddenly flipped the cover, displaying it for the rest to see. They had carbon copies of his reaction. "Year 2016!?" Jon exclaimed in shock.

Archie frowned, "Yeah… Wait, what year is it for you guys?"

"Year 298!"

His eyes widened, yet only a simple, "Oh…" passed from his lips. Everyone had now frozen, the other four trying to make sense of how not only were their years different, but also by how fast they developed technology compared to the other. Archie was just wondering what event they started counting years from. "Listen, how about we try and preserve our collective sanities and continue on, how's that sound?"

Eddard rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache already coming, "That sounds like an acceptable offer."

They all reluctantly followed him, still wishing to explore his kitchen and the devices it harboured. Archie kept motioning towards several doors that they passed by, "Storage closet, bathroom…" He pointed at the door at the part where the hallway ended and continued going right, "…and living room." The doors were all closed so they couldn't see what was in the rooms. He pointed down the other hallway, "The first door on the left side is my room. The one at the end of the hallway over there is the second bathroom. The last door on the right is the door leading to the inside of a garage, middle door is guest bedroom and first door is the computer room. The second floor of the house is only used for work. Mostly my parents went up there."

"And what would that be?" Eddard asked.

"Huh?"

"A computer room?"

"Oh… Listen, I'm honestly too lazy to explain. Right now, I just wanna show you around my house and later, the garage and basement. Just so you know I'm speaking the truth."

Eddard conceded with a nod, "As you wish. Though I must admit your hard work has proven fruitful, as every second I spend in this house proves your claim to be from another world more genuine."

"Well, it ain't hard considering my house is riddled with tech you've never even dreamed of."

"Indeed. Even the outside has impressed us."

He smiled, "Didn't know you liked the aesthetics of the house."

Eddard returned the smile politely, "That's not what I was referring to, but yes, I do indeed find the outside pleasing."

Archie inclined his head before staring blankly, his smile plastered on his face. "But wait, what do you mean if not the looks?"

The lord seemed confused, looking at him as if he expected him to know what the hell he was talking about, "The shield, of course. What else?"

"Shield? What shield?"

Ned stared at him in surprise, glancing backwards at the other three. They seemed to know what he spoke of. He turned back to Archie, "You don't know of the shield protecting your house?"

Archie crossed his arms and stood straight, staring with uncertain eyes. "I think it's time to go outside…"

He walked past them, and they followed closely. He quickly put on his shoes while the other three took a while to put on their boots. He opened the door and walked outside where the four guards waited atop their steeds, conversing. He turned around as the other four walked outside his house and stood behind him. He turned to face them, "Now. What shield are you guys talking about?"

Eddard was the first to answer, "When we first saw your house and rode up to it, we attempted to enter. But when we did… a blue… shield appeared."

"A shield?"

"Yes. But not the normal type of shield that soldiers use."

Not allowing Archie to inquire, Theon interjected behind Ned, "We even attempted to break down your door, but the shield deflected our strikes."

Archie's eyes widened, while Ned glared at Theon for revealing that bit of information. Archie's wide eyes turned into a scowl, "You did what!?"

The lord attempted to placate him, "You have very right to be angry, but you must understand, we thought the shield to be magic. We thought you were a wizard or warlock of sorts."

He crossed his arms. "Except you tried to arrest me for being a fucking bandit!"

"We called you so to appear naïve to your true nature. We tried to make you think we were underestimating you."

Archie glared at Ned before pointing his finger at him, "That… was fucking clever…" His eyes widened in surprise, but Archie continued, "…But you still tried to break down my fucking door!"

"And we apologize for it profusely. But do you mean to tell us you know nothing of this shield?"

"Look- What shield?!"

"Oh to the seven hells with this!" Theon said suddenly before unsheathing his sword and running towards Archie's house with the blade raised above his head. Archie's eyes widened and he tried to stop the now-charging psycho before he was shocked by what he saw next. As soon as Theon's blade was brought down and connected with the house, a dark blue force field revealed itself to be covering his entire house, rippling from the strike. Theon's sword was ripped from his hands as blue lightning shot out from the force field and deflected the strike as the sword now flew backwards and landed on the ground. The horses neighed and some of them reared in panic before their surprised riders placated them.

The blue force field now dissipated into invisibility and Archie stared at it with his eyes so wide Eddard and the rest were surprised they didn't pop out of their sockets. A long silence fell on them as they waited for him to speak.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?"

Archie soon began to grab his head with both his hands and screamed and shouted out obscenities, clearly beginning to lose his mind and freaking out. "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!? THAT'S NOT A SHIELD, THAT'S A FUCKING FORCE-FIELD!"

As he did, Jon whispered to Robb, "I don't think he knew about it."

He nodded in agreement, "Aye, I find myself sharing similar thoughts."

After a few more minutes Archie began calming down, taking deep breaths. He finally exhaled loudly and turned around, "Alright, so that's why you couldn't enter my house, correct?" Ned nodded. "So… why were we able to today?"

"I thought you were the one controlling who would be allowed to enter and who would not."

Archie sighed before rubbing his eyes, "This is so fucking stupid." He placed his hands on his sides before motioning Theon towards his house, "Try to enter."

"What?"

"The door's open, try to walk inside."

"Why?"

"'Cuz I wanna test a theory."

"What theory?"

"Nosy little prick, aren't you?"

Theon scowled, "As if I've no right to be!"

He shrugged, "Fair point. I'm testing what Eddard - Sorry – what Lord Stark said. I don't want you to enter the house, but go ahead and try."

Theon sighed, shaking his head, "I can't believe I'm doing this." He took a deep breath before striding forward to enter the house. When he was a meter away from the doorframe, the blue shield appeared and blue lightning shot out and struck him in the chest. But surprisingly, it only staggered him back four steps, almost falling.

"Huh," Archie said with a thoughtful look and tone. "Try runnin' into it."

"What, no!"

"Alright fine," he turned around and motioned to one of the guards, "You do it!"

Before the guard could protest, Theon said, "I'll give you a gold dragon if you do as he says."

The guard immediately dismounted while Archie stared at Theon incredulously, "Gold dragon!?"

"Yes, you've heard of currency before haven't you?"

He suddenly placed a hand over his heart and let out a sigh of relief, "Oh thank god, I thought you meant a literal dragon."

Theon and Robb chuckled before the guard suddenly charged into Archie's house. They were all surprised when the field appeared once more and the lightning struck him in the chest as well. The surprising part was that he _flew_ backwards above them, Archie exclaiming in surprise, "Jesus fuck!" The guard landed behind the group before groaning.

"Fuckin' 'ell!"

Jon quickly ran over to him before helping him stand. The guard still clutched his chest in pain and could barely stand straight, and Archie suddenly heard Theon, "Seven hells, I'm actually going to have to give him a gold dragon, don't I?"

As the guard was being helped back to his horse by Jon, he responded with, "You'd fucking better…"

Archie turned back to his house as the force field once again turned invisible. "Hold on, if I can control who can enter then maybe I can…" He trailed off, not finishing his sentence and leaving the other four in anticipation. He suddenly looked focused and stared intently at the house. All of a sudden, large circular patches revealed themselves, and his eyes widened. "Now, lemme try…" The circles began moving around the house, and everyone stared in amazement.

Archie shook his head, "This isn't fucking natural, man."

Eddard stepped forward, "Is this also your own technology?"

He shook his head, facing the lord, "Nah, man. Whatever this is, it isn't of human making. At least not with my technology. This is far too advanced. And the fact that I can control it with my mind…" He sighed, turning back to the house. "I mean… Christ, man, I can control it using my mind. But to do that I'd need some kind of implant in my brain or some shit. But I don't. Honestly… The only thing my brain can make sense of with this thing is that it's magic."

Eddard scoffed, "After all of the technology you've shown us, your people still believe in magic?"

"No, but none of my people have ever been teleported to another fucking world either. No technology can take us back in time, much less fucking shove us into different worlds." Ned stared before nodding slowly, appreciating the logical point he made. Well, not logical. Honestly, this was anything _but_ logical. But you get the point. "Wait a minute!" He said suddenly with a loud voice. "How the fuck do I have electricity!?"

"Elec-what?"

"The fuel for my technology."

"Oh," he said in realization, before he too looked confused. "That's a good question, how do you have…"

"Electricity."

"Yes, electricity?"

Archie kept staring at the house before sighing, "Well, y'know what, there's a giant fucking force field covering my house (not that I'm complaining), and having electricity in some magical way doesn't really fucking shock me." The lord did not respond, and everyone stood there and waited for Archie to do something. Eddard noticed the smile slowly creeping up on Archie's lips. "Wait a minute… If I can control the force field…"

They stared at him for a while until Robb looked at the force field appearing again, before doing a double take as his eyes widened and he stared at it. He soon burst out laughing and began to do so uncontrollably. Everyone except Archie, who was now grinning with his eyes closed as he focused, stared at him as if he'd gone mad before they all looked where he looked. Soon, they all had wide eyes, and Jon too began laughing uncontrollably.

Eddard was speechless and stared still like a statue, while Theon suddenly exclaimed indignantly, "WHAT THE FUCK!? ARE YOU DOING THAT!? Take that away, you lunatic bastard!"

Parts of the force field now appeared, but instead of circular patches of blue, it now spelled out something instead with big dark blue letters:

 **THEON LOVES COCK**

Archie opened his eyes before looking up and seeing the text, his eyes widening in disbelief as he wheezed before suddenly laughing loudly and falling on the grass. He covered his face with his hands, muffling his unruly cackling and hiding his tears of joy and amusement. Eddard simply couldn't care what the others were doing, he simply could not be asked to deal with this. He's been through two large wars, one of them massive that saw the end of one of the greatest dynasties of all time. Now THAT, he could handle. But _this_? He just couldn't be asked, honestly.

It took about four minutes of Archie, Jon and Robb laughing their asses off while Theon shouted indignantly at Archie to take the text away for them to finally calm the fuck down. Archie stopped laughing, but still covered his face and had occasional giggles, "Oh, I can't fuckin' believe this. This is too good."

"Are you going to take it away before a sentry in Winterfell sees the bloody thing!?"

"Alright, fine," he responded with an amused voice, and when Theon looked back at the house, it was gone. He sighed out in relief. "Let's go into the house now," he said before standing up and struggling to remove the shit eating grin on his face.

He looked towards Ned to see him face palming in silence. He suddenly sighed out, "You've convinced me. There is no other explanation than that you're from another world."

"Yeah, but there's more I need to show you. Let's go to the garage."

Their curiosities peaked as they suddenly looked at him before following as he stood in front of the garage door. They stood behind him and waited for him to open. "Oh shit, forgot the keys!" He ran inside the house again while yelling out, "Be right back!" A few more seconds and he appeared outside with a set of different keys in his hand. He grabbed a tiny black rectangular box with and pressed his thumb into it as he pointed it towards the garage door. They were startled as it began to rise, revealing what the four had been anxious to see.

Eddard slowly stepped forward, following Archie who casually walked inside, "Is… Is that the-"

"Car," He confirmed, placing his hand on the hood of a behemoth of a car. It clearly had abundant cargo space, was pitch black yet surprisingly shiny for something so dark. The bumpers were shiny silver, reflecting the white chrome rims, and headlights so large they looked like they could light up an entire football stadium. The windows were tinted so you couldn't see shit inside. Archie opened the door before getting inside. A few seconds of waiting, and they all jumped at the sound of the monster's engine coming alive. They all unsheathed their swords and the guards dismounted before running to their sides and doing the same.

Archie quickly stepped out of the car and yelled at them, "WHOAH, WHOAH, WHOAH, PUT YOUR FUCKING SWORDS AWAY OR I'LL CASTRATE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!"

Eddard refused, "This is a beast unlike any other I've seen, how do I know if it's safe!?"

"IT'S A FUCKING MACHINE, IT'S NO MORE A MONSTER THAN A GODDAMN CATAPULT! I WAS JUST INSIDE IT, D'YOU THINK I WOULD HAVE COME OUT ALIVE IF IT WAS A MONSTER!?"

The lord looked between the car and Archie, hesitant and uncertain, not knowing what action to take. Suddenly, one of the guards behind him charged forward and struck at the car. To everyone's shock, the blue force field appeared again and blasted him backwards several meters. Archie stared, before suddenly saying, "Oh for fuck's sake…" They all knew now that even if this was a living monster, it would be futile to attempt to slay it. So they all sheathed their blades.

"Goddamn psychos," Archie mumbled quietly. He motioned the four towards him while the rest of the guards went to help the injured one. "Come on." They all did, and he instructed them on how to open the door using the alien handle, and everyone entered, sitting inside. Archie sat in the driver's seat with Eddard next to him. The younger three all sat in the backseat behind them. They were all surprised by the soft, velvety leather of the interior, comfortability fit for an emperor, with a refreshing and invigorating AC. A small lamp lit up the interior entirely and revealed four more black leather seats behind them.

"What the…" They all looked to where Archie stared, at the glowing interface. "Well, it seems I have full gas as well. B-because, you know… Who the fuck needs logic?" He sighed, ' _Why don't you give me immortality while you're at it, author?_ '

Robb looked around in amazement, "Seven hells, do all live a life so embellished by luxurious comfortability from your world?"

"Unfortunately, no. I'm rich, remember. Some people don't even have a house to live in. Poor bastards.

Eddard sighed, "A shame, truly."

"Indeed. My parents realized it and made sure I never forgot. Everything they ever got me, they made sure to remind me that not everyone can have what I have. And that I should never take it for granted."

"And did you? Ever?"

He shook his head, "Not for a single second. If anything, I learned to despise arrogance and spoiled people." Once again, amazingly, this extremely odd and queer person managed to, despite being one of the most bizarre people they've even heard of, earn their respect. "Thank fuck I got the parents I got."

None of them said anything, Robb only nodding slowly in agreement.

Lord Stark looked around curiously, "What are all of these things?"

He suddenly perked up, "Oh shit, I forgot to show you guys one thing! C'mon, let's get outta the car, I'll show you how it works later!" He hurriedly opened the door and got out, as did they. He guided them towards one of two doors behind the car. One of them lead into his house, and the other… well, they didn't know what the other led to.

"Where are you taking us?"

He answered as he opened the door and led them down a staircase, "I'm showing you what my dad works as." They all looked at each other in confusion. "Don't worry, you'll understand once you see it." They all went down underground, with lamps lighting their way as they stairs lead to a wide and tall hallway with a door at the end. "We're in subterranean levels now. Underground."

They all stopped in front of the door, and there was a panel next to it on the wall. Archie suddenly started… speaking to it? "Requesting entry!"

Suddenly, the glass screen on the panel lit up, showing an odd round symbol representing a cracked skull with a scythe behind it. Beneath the skull was a piece of cloth with torn and worn edges with large letters saying: " **G.R.I.M.** " and on the edge of the circle it read out: " **GRIM REAPER'S INTERNATIONAL MANUFACTURER** "

Archie quickly began tapping on the glass for a good bit before text appeared saying, " **STATE NAME AND DESIGNATION CODENAME** "

He began speaking into the microphone of the panel, his voice sounding surprisingly serious and commanding. "Archer C. Wilder, Codename Designation: ICARUS."

A short blip sound was heard and a small robotic voice read the text that appeared, " **ENTRY AUTHORIZED, WELCOME ICARUS** " The door opened and he began leading them into yet another hallway, the walls now smooth metal.

"Icarus?" Eddard asked curiously

"Hmm? Oh, that's my codename to enter."

"Is it a name" He nodded. "Who does it belong to?"

"He's from a legend in my world."

"Would you care to tell it?"

"Why not. So there was once, in ancient times, a man named Daedalus. He was renowned for being a master craftsman. He and his son, Icarus, were stuck on an island. So Daedalus decided to craft wings made from feathers and wax. He gave it to his son, but warned him not to fly too close to the water so not to dampen the feathers and to not fly too close to the sun so the wax wouldn't melt. But Icarus said 'I do whatever the fuck I want' and decided to fly too close to the sun and the wax melted and he fell into the water and drowned."

Eddard seemed amused by his way of storytelling and fascinated by the story itself.

"My dad's codename is actually 'DAEDALUS'."

"Why this specific story, though?" Robb asked suddenly.

"Well, because my dad is smart and cautious and gives me awesome stuff like wings, and I'm reckless and a complete fucking idiot and keep managing to fuck myself over just like Icarus did."

All four of them began laughing, including Eddard. Archie smiled and kept walking while they followed.

Eddard calmed down and spoke, "That's not the symbolism I expected, but it works. Very clever."

Archie laughed at his comment and smiled at him before they arrived in front of another door. He opened it before leading the four into a pitch black room. They waited a few seconds before the lights lit up and revealed a room large enough to be a warehouse. They were shocked by what was in the room. Shelves on the walls and in the middle displayed odd looking devices, sealed in by glass with a panel to unlock them. The ceiling and walls were adorned with the G.R.I.M. logo.

Eddard looked speechless and shocked by the size of the room and the amount of content in it. "By the old gods and the new…" They all began looking around, not believing what their eyes were showing them.

Archie stepped in front of them and faced them, a proud smile on his face as he spread his arms out, motioning for the shelves, "What you are looking at are weapons from my world."

Jon gaped, "Are all of these weapons!?"

"Yep."

"Seven hells! Why are there so many?"

"Well, my father's work has its benefits."

"Wait… What _does_ he work as?"

Archie's smile widened, "My father is the founder of GRIM, a manufacturer and distributor of weapons ranging from knives to pistols to grenade launchers and everything in between!"

"And gentlemen?"

They all faced him as he addressed them. He finally allowed his smile to shift into a full blown grin.

"We're going to have fun fucking shit up!"

* * *

 **A/N: There you have it, ladies and gents. Let me know what you thought of the chapter. Just to let people know, I'll be having chapters where Archie becomes friends with the Starks with each character getting their own respective ones. After I'm done with that, I'll just be coming up with scenarios, be it humorous or a bit more serious, for Archie to get in to.** **The reason for the unlimited gas and electricity is no simpler than the fact that if he ran out, it wouldn't be very fucking fun, now would it?**

 **The force field guarding his house is just so people who hear rumours of this stranger from another world won't be able to break in and take his shit. I also planned for Archie's dad to be a weapons manufacturer from the start and wanted him to fuck up characters people hate in the show with the help of his weapons.**

 **But anyways, the reviews:**

 **Aldon: He'll be going to different places, but first he'll be with the Starks as stated above. Also, I think there are so many RLJ stories that I just wanna try something new. Like maybe making Ashara Dayne his mother. But I haven't decided yet. But in the end, it won't make a difference for Archie.**

 **stickzx: The fourth wall breaks will stop in near chapters, don't worry about that.**

 **ThrangalAesir: I know, right? Seems like writers just can't write a good SI fic, a shame really. Ah well, what're you gonna do? Now all sarcasm aside, I'm genuinely curious about the part where Archie threatens Robb. For some reason I don't remember writing that, could you cite the part where he does?**

 **Pop: I think the last part in this chapter answers your question.**

 **Rhekan: If you mean the writing when you say crude, then yeah, I gotta agree. This is my first fic so I didn't expect it to have Tolkien levels of writing skills, but I'm glad I got the interactions right. I appreciate it very much.**

 **petra ppsilva: Don't forget to put it on.**

 **Until next time.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Eddard**

Out of all the things to happen to Eddard Stark of Winterfell, this was something he did not anticipate.

His father and brother had been unjustly and brutally murdered by The Mad King. One cooked alive in his armour while hanging above burning wildfire, his flesh melting away before the green flames, the other strangled to death trying to save him. The shock, grief, and pain from that alone would've proved too much for most men to handle. But he was a Stark of Winterfell, the wolf's blood ran in his veins. He was stronger than most men, and he proved that when he pushed aside his grief to marry the woman his brother was meant for, Catelyn Tully. He proved that when he fought alongside his brother by bond, Robert Baratheon, in order to overthrow The Mad King and save his sister, Lyanna.

For over a year he fought every day, either on the battlefield or on the map when he consulted his war council with Robert and Jon Arryn. He did so, despite all that had happened to him. And even then, on the day he fought with his friends against the remaining three knights of The Kingsguard, he lost yet more to the idiocy and selfishness of Rhaegar Targaryen and the madness of Aerys the second. His loyal companions and friends.

And finally, that day ended with the worst event. His sister, Lyanna, lying in a bed of her own blood.

' _Promise me, Ned,_ ' she pleaded, and he promised her.

The heartache from everything that had happened to him, from the day his father and brother was murdered to the day his sister died, all accumulated in that moment. Yet he still remained steadfast from that day forward. He survived something none other could ever have survived, he lived through the worst tragedies imaginable. And he was prepared for almost anything.

But _this_?

Even he could never have anticipated _this_ to happen.

A man – No. A boy, no older, if not younger, than his own two eldest sons, appeared alongside a large, extraneous house on top of what used to be a green grass hill. He wore alien clothes, spoke and acted like nothing they'd ever heard of before. And that's not to speak of what he's shown them. He proved himself to be vulgar, crude, and disrespectful. He did not seem to care for statuses, as proven by his oversight of Ned's titles as Lord and Warden of The North. Though that could be attributed to the fact that he may never have heard of the title of Warden. For obvious reasons, he did not believe that to be the reason.

He seemed careless for someone who had just been taken from his home and shoved into a completely different world. Despite that, none could deny the claims he made.

The technology so far had already awed them, and now he's revealed his house to be of subterranean nature, a house on the surface and an underground storage where he kept his foreign weapons which neither Eddard nor his sons knew anything of. And now, the boy was currently displaying his weapons as if parading a prize-winning stallion, his grin showing the uncharacteristic excitement for someone as dry and sarcastic as this Archer had portrayed himself for what little time they've known him.

This was truly not what he'd expect his life to be. It truly seemed to have a habit of taking unexpected turns. By the mercy of the old gods, or simply owing to pure luck, none of the turns his life had taken proved mortal.

Yet…

He broke out of morbid thoughts by the stranger as he pointed to the other end of the right wall, Eddard's eyes following them to see a door, "That room is the shooting range where you practice your aim."

The lord of Winterfell now looked towards him, "Aim? These are all ranged weapons?"

"What, you thought you were supposed to take a rifle and beat someone over the head with it?" He waved them towards him, "Follow me." He now walked between the shelves and scanned them up and down for a weapon to choose. The shapes of the weapons were bizarre, unlike anything he'd seen before. And it was clear, as indicated by the younger three's expressions, that they paralleled thoughts. He had no idea how to describe them, some were as different as day was from night. Though one thing they all seemed to share was either a circle, with a tiny lever to push or pull, depending on how one would go about using said weapons, and they also had protruding cylinders in the front of the weapon.

Though Ned did notice one thing different about all of them, a distinction that separated each and every one of them from each other, even the ones of the same size and shape. They were all diverse in that they had been painted different colours and patterns, some even displaying paintings of animals or other objects on them. They all seemed personalized, no doubt by either Archer or his father. Some were, admittedly, appealing to Ned. He found himself particularly entranced by one of medium size with a painting of a white wolf baring its teeth, its features accentuated by the drawn lines, giving it a fierce look. Its feral crimson eyes glowed with a gleam of primal ferocity. It had no body, instead its head seemed to emit a mist of swirling smoky fur that coiled along the weapon's length.

"That one caught your eye?" Eddard shook himself out of his staring and turned around, slightly embarrassed that he would be so easily distracted. Yet he and the younger three could not help but be amazed by its beauty. And never would they have thought to put a painting on a weapon before. Mayhaps it was that swords did not make as large a canvas as Archer's weapons.

Archer was smiling, "Yeah, can't blame you. Thing's a black widow."

"How's that?" Theon asked, confusing the boy's words for being literal. As did Eddard, admittedly. "It's a painting of a wolf."

Archer's brows furrowed, voice slightly dumbfounded, "What? No, I meant the expression."

All were confused, having never heard of said expression. The Stark's ward inquired, "How is that a black widow then?"

"Sexy and fatal," was the curt response he received.

Theon seemed a bit shocked and looked thoughtful before a disgusted expression appeared instead, "I can't say I've found a spider to be sexually attractive in my eyes before."

To Ned's and their surprise, considering they hadn't heard of the expression either and was thinking the same as Theon, Archer let out a short laugh.

Eddard turned back to look at the weapon, "As much as I disagree with your coarse way of putting it, I must admit I find it rather... bewitching."

He grinned in pride, "Glad you like it. She's called ' _Fenrir_ '. Designed the paintjob myself. Gave her the name, as well."

 _Impressive_ , the lord thought to himself. He staved off his curiosity of the name's origin and faced Archer again, " _She_?"

"Yeah. You guys call ships ' _she_ ', don't you?"

"This is hardly a ship."

"No, but it's still an object you can form a connection to, right?"

He raised his shoulders in a shrug, "I wouldn't know, I've never used a weapon of this ilk before."

"No, but you have a sword, correct?"

He nodded, "Indeed, _Ice_."

Archer looked slightly surprised for a moment before his expressions mellowed. "Creative," he commented unironically before returning to the subject, "But you have a weapon you name, that you've personalized, right?"

Robb suddenly interjected, no doubt eager to share the proud history of House Stark. Eddard didn't know whether to shoot a scolding glare for interrupting someone clearly about to speak or to shoot an approving smile for being proud of his name instead. Instead, he let it be, and let Robb explain.

"Ice is no mere sword. It is the ancestral greatsword of House Stark, one of the few remaining blades spell-forged in Valyria."

Archer stared at him with wide eyes, "Jesus Christ, it's like I'm listening to someone reading a fantasy book. I mean… 'mere' and 'spell-forged'?" He saw their confusion, ignorant to the novelty of their language from his point of view. He waved it off, shaking his head as he did, "Whatever. What's a… varylla?"

"Valyria," corrected Robb.

He yet remained confused and spoke slowly, "Vah..."

Robb caught on, "...Lyria."

"Lyria," he mimicked, with a look of thoughtfulness upon his face, "Vah-Lyria, Vah-Lyria, Valyria, Valyria." He paused and smiled. "Think I got it, now. _Valyria_ ," he whispered a final time. "So, what is a Valyria?"

He looked towards his father, not being well-versed in valyrian history. Eddard chose to be merciful and took over, his naturally authoritative voice causing Archer to face him, "It is a land lying in the east. Now no more than a ruined city spanning across peninsulas, in its apex it was said to be the greatest civilization of this world. The Valyrian Freehold, or simply put, the Valyrian empire was ruled by Dragonlords, all from rival houses fighting for power and glory. It is there that they spell-forged valyrian steel, weapons forged from this form of metal and technique is stronger than any other and never loses its edge. Armour made of valyrian steel are worth kingdoms, but none possess such things."

Archer's eyes only widened more, and to their amusement his mouth opened and closed as if not knowing where to start with his questions, "What, uh… What do you mean ' _Dragonlord'_?"

"High Valyrians rode atop dragons."

His surprised look faded and was replaced with a sceptical look, "Okay, now I'm seriously beginning to doubt all that's true."

Eddard smiled, "It is a fact that they once existed."

"…"

They all stared while Archer remained silent.

"…"

"…"

"…What?"

"Dragon's exist."

He remained silent again, speaking only after a lengthy stare, voice seeming almost… annoyed, "Tell me exactly how you all have proof about Dragons existing."

"I've seen them myself," stated Ned

Archer stared blankly, "And you lived to tell the tale?"

"The capital of the Seven Kingdoms, King's Landing, possess dungeons filled with skulls of long deceased dragons. I've seen them and felt their jaws and teeth against my palm."

Archer frowned, "Hold the fucking phone, so you're telling me I got shoved into a world with dragons in it!?"

Normally, with any other, Eddard would have reprimanded him for using such volume and tone, yet in young Archer's case, it was justified and then some. "They've been extinct for hundreds of years now, there is no cause for worry."

"Thank fuck for that." Archer stared at the ground for a good while, "…Fucking dragons? Seriously? What's next, magic, walking tree people, zombies?" Eddard had given up on understanding foreign names by now. He would have to inquire about this ' _zombie_ ' at a later, and more appropriate, date. Archer shook his head, "Whatever, let's just check out the other rifles." He commented to himself, barely audible, as they followed, " _Fucking christ, that conversation took a different turn than I expected._ "

The boy suddenly stopped in front of a one of the longer weapons, coloured red with the pattern of a black and yellow burning skull flying across it, and pulled it off the shelf a little too fast for his own good as the weight of it staggered him slightly. He let out a small, surprised grunt with wide eyes before gaining his balance again. When he recovered, he proceeded to hold it up by hugging it against him with his left arm, his other free. "This automatic assault rifle is a 'GR 493'. Its design looks simple as an assault rifle, but as it always is with my dad's designs, this one's better in every way," said Archer with a proud grin. "Perfect weight, believe it or not, since you can't tell with my fucking stick-for-arms, but very light for someone with some actual muscle on their bones. And the thing'll put holes in a body faster than I can make a self-deprecating joke."

They shared a look of confusion, prompting Ned to ask, "Holes? How do these weapons work exactly?"

"I won't bother you with the details, unless you want me to, in which case I'll explain it later, but in short," He pointed to the small lever, "This is the trigger you pull to shoot. And when you shoot, the weapon fires a metal bullet."

"And a bullet would be..?"

"Hold on," said Archer as he gripped the weapon, its weight proving difficult for him to lift before he pressed the side of what he called an assault rifle, ejecting the slim box into his hand. He showed it to them and the small round-tipped metal objects in them, "These are bullets. Well, not _these_. These are just for show, but you can't actually shoot them. Real bullets have sharper tips, depending on the bullet. There are different types of bullets, some are hollow-point bullets that fuck up a human body worse than I can fuck up a math test. There are normal bullets like these that aren't really specialized in anything and is a decent all-rounder, and finally there are armour-piercing bullets. If you're wondering what an armor piercing bullet is, the clue's in the name."

Ned's eyes widened, the last mentioned bullet needing no explanation, "There is such a thing?"

"Yep. It'll punch through armour like paper. Even your type of medieval armour. Steel plate, mail plate, whatever else type of plate, you name it. Normal bullets can, without a doubt, do the same to your type of armour, if my own estimate of your technological advances with armour is correct. But armour piercing bullets are specialized for even a small handgun to be able to handle armour."

"How fast do these bullets fly?"

"Depends on the round. Some are faster than the speed of sound, and will make bizarre noises because of it depending on the distance." Ned's eyes widened, and he did not have to look to know the others were just as shocked. "One thing they all have in common is that they're too fast for the human eye to catch."

Archer grinned at their reactions, his enjoyment at seeing their awe and amazement evident.

Eddard prayed none he loved would be so accursed as to face a man wielding such weapons as these. For he knew none would survive.

He placed the rifle back before walking over to a metal table of sorts. Glass on top and on the wide side revealed many smaller weapons. He pressed his thumb against the glass panel that read, " **Identification Required for Access** "

Once again, to their surprise, the glass on top of the table slid open.

"What happened?" Eddard asked, surprised.

"The glass panel scanned my fingerprints."

His confusion showed on his face, "Finger prints?"

Archer nodded, "Yep."

Jon interjected with a question, "What is a fingerprint?"

The outlander looked at him oddly, as if the answer was obvious. Of course, to him it was. "The pattern on your finger." Jon looked surprised and looked down at his finger, inspecting the pattern. Robb glanced at him before doing the same, Theon following.

Ned crossed his arms, "Will I be able to unlock it as well?"

"Not unless I let you."

His eyes widened, "You can control it?"

"Mhm."

"But… How does it know whose fingerprints it is?"

He shrugged, "Well, everyone's got distinct fingerprints."

Lord Stark looked impressed by the young man's knowledge, not even Maesters knew of this, he suspected. Their priorities would hardly be placed on looking at their fingers. And the commonfolk rarely focused on such mundane things, he suspected. He knew he didn't. Archer continued while the other three removed their attentions away from their fingers.

He took out one of the weapons, holding it in his hands and displaying it proudly to the four now examining it with curious eyes. Eddard saw the text on its side, yet commented nothing on it as Archer explained what it was, his voice mockingly imitating a salesman Eddard would hear occasionally in the market.

"This peashooter is a 'GRIM Hawk Mark II', the looks were inspired by the Deagle, but slimmer and with smoother textures." He leaned forward, his eyebrows rising and lowering, his voice turning more quiet and seductive, "And also sexier." The four looked taken aback, unused to this type of antics.

He leaned back and his voice returned to normal, "This thing may not be as intimidating as a Deagle but it definitely has a better recoil compensation and aim while keeping the same effect on a human body as the aforementioned hand-cannon. It's more comfortable to hold, and it's lighter." They all stared at him with confused looks, and he suddenly remembered that they were still of a different time and world. His face went blank and he sighed at himself, "And none of you have any idea what the hell I'm talking about." Suddenly, he perked up, as if an idea occurred to him."I think a demonstration would be better."

They all backed away slowly at the implication of his words, an implication he soon realized, "What?- No, no, no! I meant the shooting range! For practice!"

They let out a breath of relief, and Eddard spoke, "Lead the way."

"Christ. The fuck kinda murderer do y'all take me for." He shook his head before doing just that, guiding them to the door before using the fingerprint scanner and leading them to the other room. They entered a room smaller than the one they were previously in, and three shooting lanes with human shaped targets at the end of each one. Eddard and the rest glanced around the room before following him again as he settled himself in the middle shooting lane. Several ear muffs hung on the wall and Archer grabbed one before putting it on and proceeded with grabbing two more and handing them to Robb and Jon, who looked at them with uncertainty and confusion before they took them. The two looked at each other and chuckled at how ridiculous they looked with this foreign object on their heads. Archer soon gave Eddard and Theon theirs, and the lord took his before putting it on.

Archer noticed he was still holding out one for Theon to take before waving it in front of his face, "You gonna put it on today, or..?"

"No, thank you, I'd much rather not look a fool."

Robb scowled indignantly while Jon ignored the comment. Eddard however stood next to him and slowly turned his head to the right before slowly glaring down at Theon, which Theon noticed as he looked back up at him with wide, nervous eyes.

Archer placed the ear muffs back with a shrug before noticing the glower the lord sent his ward, and waved off Theon's comment while addressing Eddard with sarcasm dripping from his tongue, "Oh, don't worry, it looks good on you though." Robb failed to stop his laughter, causing Ned to direct his scolding glare towards him instead, while Jon simply tried to repress an ear-to-ear grin. Archer soon ejected the magazine from the Hawk and took bullets out of a green metal box and placed them inside of it, one by one. He pushed the magazine back inside before pulling the top of the weapon back, causing a cocking sound, as Theon got too cocky for his own good when he decided to lean against the wall of the stall next to Archer. The others watched the young stranger handle the foreign weapon naturally.

Archer glanced at him with a barely contained smile, and shook his head as if amused by the young man's arrogance. He aimed the gun towards his target, both hands holding it. They way he held it suggested nothing less than professional handling. He waited a few seconds before suddenly lowering the weapon, both hands adhered to the grip. "You know what? Since you're so confident, why don't you use it first?"

Theon's eyes widened and he stood straight, "W-what? Are you serious? I've no idea how to use the bloody thing?"

* * *

 **Archer**

He was now fully grinning, and he insisted, holding the Hawk towards Theon's face.

"I'll teach you. C'mon, big boy. You're not scared, are you?"

He hesitated before glancing at the spectators. He looked back and plastered on a cocky grin before taking the offered weapon. He knew the guy's ego was way too fragile for him to resist. Archie stood behind him as the older man took stance in the stall. He guided Theon on how to hold and aim it, "Alright, now you gotta hold it like this… place your finger there… No, not there, here, on the trigger… There you go… And now aim down the sights… these."

"Why has... the sights got glowing blue lights on them? How is that possible?"

He made sure to let his annoyance show in his voice, "I don't know! Who gives a shit, just- There! Hold still, don't move a muscle. Make sure the trigger is on the _middle_ of your finger. Good. Now, just breathe calmly and slowly squeeze the trigger. Don't pull, squeeze. Oh, and exhale before taking a shot. Now, when you shoot, for the love of all that is holy in this world, do not drop it! It _will_ recoil in your hands, so be prepared! Keep a firm grip! But don't hold on too hard!"

Archie quickly stepped behind him with a mischievous grin, rousing Ned's suspicion, and they all waited patiently, and before anyone realized it, Theon exhaled slowly…

 _ **BANG!**_

Everyone jumped backwards in surprise as small flames ejected from the tip of the weapon for a split second as the gun's chamber opened to eject the now-burning hot casing. The target standing on the other end of the lane rippled before returning to normal, revealing the bullet hole in its chest, close to bull's eye in the middle. Not right on target, but still impressive for someone who's never held a pistol in his hands before. Theon held his right ear as he shouted, "SEVEN FUCKING HELLS, THAT WAS LOUD! OH GOD, MY FUCKING EARS! WHY IS IT WHISTLING!?"

"Huh," Archie said, a hint of surprise in his voice, ignoring the shouting right next to him as he took the Hawk from his hands. "Impressive. A natural, I'd go so far as to say."

The other three stared at the gun in his hand with amazement. Eddard stepped forward, posture firm. He was clearly concerned with the arrogant prick, for whatever reason. "What in the name of the old gods was that?!"

Theon suddenly shouted, "WHAT!? I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

They all looked taken aback, Eddard especially seeing how the guy was shouting in his face. Archie however just chuckled before slapping his hand on Theon's shoulder, "Congrats, you made yourself look like a fool _without_ the ear muffs."

"WHAT!?"

He stared before sighing, "Nevermind."

Theon, again, shouted in his face, "WHAT!?"

He winced at the volume before hastily placing his finger on his lips, "SHH!"

He seemed to understand that as he nodded with a grimace as he held his ear. The others began looking at him in concern, excluding Jon, as they began removing their ear muffs. "What happened to him? Is he injured?"

"That's what the ear muffs are for. So you won't blow out your eardrums like…" He sighed shortly and glanced at Theon as the guy was holding his ears, "...fucking doofus, right here."

Lord Stark frowned in confusion, "I fail to see how this is an effective weapon if it harms the user's ear."

"But that only happened because we're in an enclosed space, especially Theon considering he was standing inside a goddamn stall. Besides, blowing out your eardrums still doesn't make this weapon any less effective."

"So there's only a risk for this to happen if one is in a very small enclosure?"

"Yep. Well, it can also happen in open spaces, but not nearly as drastic as this occurrence. Don't worry, though. I'm sure he'll be fine. By the way, there are also silencers. Traditionally, they're basically tubes you screw onto the tip of the gun's barrel. But there are exceptions. You might have actually noticed a couple of guns with longer barrels." Eddard nodded, commenting he noticed the difference, but didn't think much of it. "Those are built in silencers. Can't take 'em off, but they never break."

Archie slapped his hands together and decided this was enough. He didn't wanna show them too much, after all. He couldn't trust them. He never watched the show, so he didn't know who was deceitful or not. He guided them back to the surface quickly. As they reached the top of the stairs, he stopped in front of the door to the garage and faced them. They all paused, and Archie suddenly turned serious. The younger guys around his age looked confused, but Eddard looked almost worried. ' _Guess I can't blame them. I've been acting like a damn joker so far._ '

"Now, before any of you go out this door, you all need to promise me something. This is something that might change your entire world. Now, I need you all to promise me that _this_ ," He said, motioning his hands around them. "None of this leaves between us five. Understood? Those weapons you saw? They were just for display. They're real, but they're not the only ones. I have an armory that could arm a hundred guys with one weapon each. That includes all explosives and body armour. This shit gets into the hands of the wrong people, and your world _will_ turn to chaos, I promise you that. I don't care about any sort of magical blue fucking shield guarding my house, I'm not taking any more chances than I have to. However, trusting you all is a chance I _have_ to take." He lowered his gesturing hand. "So… Do I have your promises that not a single word of this leaves your mouths unless I give the all clear?"

He shouldn't have been surprised when they looked confused. Archie sighed, clarifying, "Unless I give permission?"

Without missing a beat, Eddard straightened his back, "You have my word, lad, and the words of my sons and my ward, that not a breath is to be uttered of what we have been allowed to see here, not even to our beloved, unless you deem them deserving to know. I swear you this, upon my honour as a Stark."

He glanced behind the grown man to see Robb and Jon nodding. Theon was still rubbing his ear, but Archie had no doubt Ned would inform him later. The guy'd probably get his ass beat by him if he opened his fucking mouth about it, seeing as how Ned has more common sense than Archie's old neighbourhood. Despite that not saying much. "Alright. I'll have to take your words for it. Now come on, wouldn't want your posse out there thinking I've done something to you."

They all exited, and Archie frowned angrily when he saw the guards inspecting the exterior of the car, one of them almost poking it with a pike. He placed a pair of fingers from each hand in his mouth before letting out a sharp, earsplitting, and almost debilitating whistle. All of them jumped, weapons at the ready and gripped firmly, before they saw their liege and the other three emerge from behind him. Some glanced at him in surprise at the volume of his whistle.

Every one of them immediately stood at guard, backs straight. "My lord!" One of them said. He glanced at Archie, almost unnerved, "The outlander… Was he speaking the truth."

As Eddard confirmed his claims, and began explaining what he had been shown (with the exception of the weapons, of course), Archie looked almost taken aback. He muttered quietly to himself, though unknowingly loud enough for the Jon, Robb, and Theon to hear. "Outlander? Yeah, fuck you too. Looking at me like that."

After the lord was done explaining to his men, he motioned one of them towards Archie, and a guard walked to him, baseball bat in hand. He heard Eddard talk, as he accepted it, surprised. "I believe it is yours. You will have to forgive me for keeping it from you."

He waved it off casually, "Don't even sweat it." He held the bat by the middle and walked towards the massive car, his hands reaching in his pocket. He disappeared from sight behind the vehicle, a few sounds and the car tilted ever so slightly towards him, before his head emerged past the roof of the car as he stood on the edge of the opened car door, "Actually, you guys can take a ride with me in the car, if you want." He noticed their uncertain expressions and quickly reassured them of any worries they had, "If you want to, I mean. It's entirely your choice, honestly."

Eddard was the first to answer, "As tempting as it is to see what that steel beast of yours is capable of in terms of transport, I must remain with my men. It would not do for a lord to abandon his own household guards. I will accompany them, but..." He looked towards the younger three behind him, "They can go with you, if they so wish it. "

They glanced between each other unsure, Theon because he couldn't hear what anyone was saying, before whispering to each other. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "I, uh… Now that I think about it, it'd probably be better if you all did. I don't think the guys back at Winterfell would be very, uhm… cordial… if they saw this big ass machine charging in their direction."

By the time he finished his sentence, the three had all come to an accord, with Robb acting as a representative, "Aye, we'll come with you."

He smiled, "Alright, then. Get in." He suddenly ducked inside the car, disappearing from sight, before the engine roared to life again, and again the guards had to relax as they reminded themselves it could do them no harm. Archie waited patiently as they all got into the car, Theon behind him and Robb beside him, with Jon behind Robb and beside Theon. He held the handle of his baseball bat towards Jon, "You wouldn't mind holding onto this for me, would you?" Jon took it from him without a word, and Archie put on his seatbelt before looking at the others, "Put on your seatbelts too. Its for your own safety."

No one argued, or asked any questions. He could tell they were all nervous, with Theon having to take instructions from Robb who basically played charades for the guy. Archie had to tell them where to latch the seatbelt and when they were finally done, his hands gripped the steering wheel.

"Is that the wheel you spoke of?" asked Robb, and he nodded with a smile.

"Yeah, good catch."

He looked at the rearview mirror to see Eddard and his guards staring in anticipation. He chuckled to himself and shook his head, ' _As if it's the Apollo about to launch off to the moon._ '

Suddenly, yet slowly, the car left the garage, and he opened the door before shouting outside, "Get outta the garage, I'm gonna close it!" When they finally evacuated the garage, some rather frantically, to his amusement, he clicked the button on the garage door opener to close it behind him. He closed the door and finally drove, the wheels against the ground slightly audible. The other three occupants of the vehicle weren't _too_ amazed so far, unsurprisingly. They did have carriages, so this speed shouldn't be too shocking. As the car made its way down the hill and to the road in the forest, he suddenly leaned over to Robb's seat. Robb was slightly startled and backed against the seat as Archie opened the glovebox while uttering a quick, "Sorry," before his hands raided the filled compartment. "A-HA!" He yelled suddenly, before pulling out his earbuds, "There they are! I've been looking for you little shits the entire week!"

"What are those things?" Robb asked, awfully curious as to what it was that made the other young man so excited.

"These are earbuds. You plug'em into your phone." He pulled a small flat box with a glass surface from his pocket, "This is my phone." He pointed to the hole on top of it, "You plug the earbuds into this and place the earbuds into your ears. Shocking, I know. Then you can play music if you want and only you will hear them through the buds. This thing basically emits sound from these two buds here. You can plug them into any device that has these holes that we call phone jacks." The car had passed into the forest when he finished.

He saw Robb's awed expression, "Just when I believe myself to be immune to all surprises, you pass expectations effortlessly. Those simple wires allows you to play any music the user so wishes. And not only that, that simple black box in your hand is capable of playing music? I've half a mind to call you mad, but from what I've seen so far, I don't know if _I_ am, myself. How does it do that, even? Is it… Is it a living creature of sorts?"

A laughter left him, and it was clear he enjoyed their reaction. In fact, he found it interesting and fascinating to see an outside perspective from someone who didn't grow up with these types of things. "No, it's a device that records audio it picks up. Let's say a singer recorded his voice with a device of his own. He takes this recording of his singing and shares it on something we call the 'Internet'. It is one of the most important things in modern human life and people use it every day. Think of it as… Ah, fuck. How do I explain what the internet is?" He wandered, thoughtful. "Let's just keep it simple. Think of it as an invisible… tavern? Yeah, tavern. People go on the internet and can share all kinds of things. Pictures, videos"

Jon asked, "What sort of music do your people listen to?"

Archie's mouth opened and closed as he tried to think of something to mention that they might recognize. Finally, he gave up, and caught his eye through the rearview mirror, "Look, you really think you could recognize any genre of music if I tried mentioning it?"

"I… don't know what a genre is," said Jon with uncertain eyes.

"Uh… It pretty much means 'category'."

"I see… I suppose I wouldn't."

"Don't worry about it, in the future, when you've settled a bit with my behaviour and tech and whatnot, then I'll show you. Anyways, that's essentially how music works. Your record the sound, and share it on the internet. Though not necessarily, but that's one method of sharing it." A silence followed, and Archie suspected the cause for it was them not wanting to come off as nosy or annoying. No doubt their minds were filled to the brink with questions, some about the things they were seeing in the car. Secretly, he was thankful they had the forethought to not ask too many questions. Despite being interested in seeing their reactions, he was far from being without patience.

In any case, he _had_ to speak his mind on one specific matter, one he remembered as they were finally outside the forest, Winterfell visible in the distance. "So, when we get to Winterfell, should I let you guys handle the talking? I'm pretty sure they'd lower their crossbows if their lord's kids moved outta the car first. I, uh, I'm kinda worried about getting a bolt to the fucking eye. Already got an arrow in the back of my shoulder once, and it was not fun. Doubt a bolt is any more amusing."

Robb nodded reassuringly, "Not to fret, Archie. We will placate the sentries. Wait for me to give the… _all clear_."

He suddenly glanced at Robb in light surprise, a smile forming, one returned by the heir of Winterfell. As Archie looked forward, he thought to himself, ' _He's alright._ '

* * *

 **A/N: New chapter, yay, not much to say, so let's just move onto the reviews!**

 **Guest: I already had that thought, of showing them strategy games that is (and other games also, of course), and modern music will not only be in the story, but also a part of Archie's antics. You'll know what I'm talking about soon enough.**

 **DamirRedholt: Believe it or not, I've never actually watched Archer. The only thing I've seen from Adult Swim is all the seasons of the Boondocks and the Robot Chicken: Star Wars episode on YouTube. The name Archer came to me when I thought of a name that was modern and still in use, but its meaning had to do with medieval ages. As for Archer's speech patterns, they came from my own mind. (His personality is inspired by my own, but not identical.)**

 **Rainsfere: Tadah! It's not dead! And not to worry about everyone getting guns and shit, that'd be pretty boring in my opinion (And of course, my opinion is always the right one).**

 **Until the next chapter! (Which'll be like another five years haha jk plx no hate)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: That's right, I'm back. I won't keep you too long, so here's a quick list of IMPORTANT changes I'm going to make to the story:**

 **1\. A fair warning: in a few days' time I'm changing the title to "Icarus", because frankly "An Idiot in Westeros" is just plain fucking dumb. This is a heads up so you guys know the name of the story after I've changed it.**

 **2\. I'm changing the date 2026 to 2016. The reason it was 2026 in the first place was because I wanted Archie to have some necessary tech, but it would make some future chapters where he talks about his world very hard. So I said fuck it, and changed it back.**

 **That's it, now enjoy.**

* * *

 **Arya**

Arya rolled her eyes at hearing Septa Mordane compliment Sansa's embroidery yet again. She looked down at her own work and saw nothing but a mess of threads red and green and black. She growled to herself in frustration, wanting nothing more than to throw the stupid piece of cloth at the septa's bony face. To her chagrin, the morrow light had yet to pass and so she was stuck here. She should be practicing her horse-riding or her aim, with Jon helping her. Instead her mother forces her to wear a dress and partake in these stupid lessons, every day. Sewing was perhaps the most boring thing she knew, second only to Sansa. _Sansa was always good at sewing. Maybe she can see the needle and her have their smarts in common._ Again, she heard her sister giggle that ridiculous giggle of hers as she whispered to her friend, Jeyne Poole. It was _that_ giggle, the siren that let her know instantly that they were swooning over some noble's pretty-faced son. The ones Sansa would always drool over all looked like girls anyways.

Suddenly, Arya perked up at _the_ name. The one that was the talk of the castle, the persisting name that had been on everyone's minds, Arya's included, since its bearer had arrived in the North.

Archer.

When Septa Mordane's attention was swayed from them unto Beth Cassel, Arya moved and sat closer to the pair, whispering to them, "What are you two giggling about?" She already knew, but asking them that way would have them telling it from the beginning.

Sansa faced her while Jeyne's mocking gaze, one she was used to, was accompanied by the words. "What's it to you, horse-face?"

Arya hid the pain inflicted by the insult and scowled, intent on shouting the bitch's ear to pieces. Before Sansa spoke, anyways, "Jeyne! No need for that. What would Ser Archer think if he heard such crude words spoken from you?"

Jeyne looked apologetic - to Sansa, not her.

Arya corrected her, "He's not a knight."

Sansa scoffed at her, "He saved Robb's life, taking an arrow for him even after he was arrested for being mistaken a brigand. He deserves nothing short of a knighthood." Her eyes wandered off into a dreamy stare. "Gods, there is no man half as handsome as him."

"You say that about every boy you fall in love with," said Arya, voice deadpan. She had to admit, the outlander boy (as Jory and the guards had taken to calling him) did not look half bad. She hardly thought about such stupid and girly things. But thinking about it now, Archer looked… not bad. He was more attractive than most, make no mistake. But to be truthful, it was nothing that would turn heads if he were to stride in during a wedding. Even if it was, she wouldn't care. Not to mention, she saw his arms when he took off his odd tunic with the two headed blue-and-red hawk. She wouldn't call them bony, but they certainly lacked for muscle.

Taking her mind off his face, she returned to the question she was meaning to ask, "Were you talking about him?"

Her sister blushed predictably, "Yes, we were."

"What about him?"

"He does not lack a certain charm. The way he speaks with confidence."

 _I'd call him careless if anything,_ she thought. Confidence was one thing; it was to be sure of yourself and to know what you're capable of. Archer acted like he barely cared what he could and couldn't do, simply doing whatever his whims so ordained. He didn't walk around with his nose held high, either. He was simply… casual. _And he swears a lot… I think._ Certain, she couldn't be. For the only thing she had heard was her brothers talking of his antics when they thought she hadn't been in hearing range. If their words were true, Archer takes to swearing as a sailor takes to the sea.

Sansa continued, "And his japes had us all laughing."

"Oh, I wish I'd been there."

"Had I had any say in the matter, you would have joined us every morrow. You are a sister in all but name and blood, Jeyne."

 _Gods, she turns from arrogant idiot to a lickspittle every time she speaks of her true loves._ Emphasis on her _loves_. Not once had Sansa spoken so kindly to Arya since she could remember, she thought bitterly. _I don't care; she can keep her precious Jeyne. I don't need her._

The door to the room opened, startling her from her rather bitter musing, and Arya's mother walked in with all the regal grace befitting a lady of the house of Stark. She wore a simple dark-blue dress with the hem trailing behind her on the wooden plank floor like a moving water puddle.

"Sansa, Arya." She greeted Jeyne and Beth with a kind, matronly smile and a nod. "I trust you to have been behaving." The question was pointed towards the two sisters, Arya in particular, she knew.

The septa smiled, "M'lady. Your Lady daughter Sansa's work is as remarkable as always." Her sister received the compliment with a courteous smile and gratitude, a hint of pride underlying it. The septa's smile fell ever so slightly when she looked towards Arya, however. "And Lady Arya has yet to try, despite my efforts."

"I am trying!" she insisted angrily.

Her mother frowned at her, "Arya, don't raise your voice at the septa."

 _But I am!_ she thought, yet said nothing. She heard her sigh.

"She is just as her aunt was, Ned tells me."

"I have to imagine she at least had a lady's manners, Lady Stark," said the septa. Arya had expected her to drone on about her 'un-ladylike' behaviour, but to her and her mother's surprise, she said, "If I may, m'lady… Is it true?"

"What do you speak of?" her mother asked when she faced the septa. But Arya had a feeling she knew exactly what she spoke of.

"This… outlander?"

Her eyes widened for the curtest second, not having expected the septa to hear of this. _So much for our promises to keep silent on the matter. Sorry, father._ Arya couldn't however claim she was surprised. This simply wasn't something you can keep a secret. Personally, she had no idea why they even tried.

"The boy's name is Archer, not outlander," her mother said. Septa Mordane apologized for her rudeness and her mother gestured her acceptance of it with a nod. "He is a boy of seven-and-ten, and he is alone with naught but his own house in a world and age not native to him. I expect you shall all treat him kindly, and help him to feel at home. Gods know how he must feel without his family and friends."

Her sister, Jeyne, and Beth all nodded, and Arya followed soon after with a nod of her own. Suddenly, she felt sorry for Archer. He seemed so uncaring, but perhaps he was in fact grieving that he was alone.

"But is it true he is from another world?"

"I, myself, know not, Septa. But my lord husband, Robb, Theon… and the bastard have all taken to following him. He swore to them he would give evidence to support his claim." Arya frowned at her tone when speaking of Jon, but had learned long ago it was better refraining to comment on it.

"Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but is it wise? What is to say he is not leading them into a trap this very moment, waiting to be sprung? Had they not thought him a brigand at first?" It was surprising just how much knowledge the court of Winterfell had managed to allow themselves.

Her mother's words were interrupted by Arya herself, "He saved Robb's life!"

Septa Mordane _tsk_ ed at her disapprovingly, "It would not do for you to be spreading tales, Lady Arya."

"My daughter speaks the truth," her mother revealed, much to her satisfaction.

She smiled smugly at the surprised septa. "I see. Forgive me. When do you believe they will return?"

"I do not know. Pray tell, where had you heard of this?"

"From Leslie, the red-haired kitchen girl. I believe she is new." She curtsied with a bowed head, "I pray you do not intend on punishing her harshly, my lady. She is but a young girl with a tongue prone to gossip, as most are. And I would not place the entirety of the blame on her. Gods know how many loosened their tongues when they should have kept them in check." Reluctantly, Arya felt some small measure of respect for the septa. No doubt she'd lose it soon enough, though.

Her mother stared in thoughtfulness before she conceded, "I suppose it was bordering on foolish to think word of this would not escape. Still, I would have hoped the gods would grant us at the very least a mere day." The septa thanked Arya's mother.

Suddenly, the door opened with haste to reveal a wide eyed Maester Luwin, ending all possibilities of further discussion within the room. "My Lady Stark!"

Worry overcame her expression for but a second, before the visage of the Stark Matriarch returned, "Maester? What is it? What's happened?"

"There… The guards, they speak of a beast, a great steel monster outside our gates at this very moment! And no, it is no jape of ill taste; we must speak with Ser Rodrik at once! He awaits by the gate, right outside of Winter Town! He marshals the men as we speak!"

There had been a panic amongst Winterfell as the guards atop the walls scurried about like headless chickens, Ser Rodrik barking out orders. Crossbowmen formed lines and aimed at whatever it was that awaited outside and guards took to whatever position they'd been given and readied their blades. It had been the most tense minute of her short life as Arya and her mother and sister stood in the courtyard, their vision blocked of what awaited the behind portcullis. Her mother ordered them to stay, and with the grace and stern bravery of a Stark matriarch, she strode past the soldiers and onlookers to see this great steel monster. She moved to follow, but Sansa tried to stop her; Arya had none of it, though, and shook off her hand roughly before scurrying into the crowd. She stopped dead in her tracks when she bumped into the back of Fat Tom.

"Underfoot?" Before he could ask what she was doing so far in the frontline, and before she could think of a quick lie to fool him with, they heard Ser Rodrik from atop the wall calling out to them, "It's Lord Robb! Open the gate!"

 _Robb? Maester Luwin said there'd be a steel monster!_ she thought, disappointed greatly.

Suddenly, the murmuring crowd was silenced concurrently with her heartbeat, for there was a great rumble _after_ the portcullis had been raised. And then, she started as every guard unsheathed their blade, the sound of rasping steel filling the courtyard. She gasped as she gazed the source of the rumbling noise.

A great monster made its way into the clearing; its flesh was wrought from steel and its shape unlike anything she had seen or read of before. Her eyes gazed upon its single black one, lifeless and without… anything. It seemed not even a black eye, naught but a reflection of everything it saw. A black mirror of glass. It was a truly foreign creature, and as daunting as it was alien. It was not of this world, for rather than legs it had wheels. Not of wood as a cart's, but of a black material that surrounded the circular steel flesh of its wheels. The ground seemed to vibrate as the beast strode (rolled?) before stopping in the midst of the courtyard. Is the beast growling, or was that merely the rumbling of its mighty heart? Whatever it was, it stopped suddenly, and only silence was in the air. A few seconds passed, yet for everyone it felt as though a millennium. Their hearts pounded as quickly as wildfire burned timber. Maids trembled at the sight and the soldiers' breaths were heavy and their arms turned from pillar steady to crumbling as though their courage were naught more than ruins the likes of Harrenhal. Arya couldn't blame them.

The millenniums passed, it seemed, and in perhaps the most startling awakening to have ever taken place in everyone's lives thus far, the millenniums became seconds once more, for the flank of the beast opened… like a door. And who was it that emerged from the beast's wiíthin?

"Robb!" Arya heard her mother exclaim. It was not often she lost her composure as she did then.

Her brother smiled when his eyes caught the sight of their mother. It was just after that Jon and Theon likewise opened their doors and emerged. It was clear on all their faces the wonders they'd been witness to; only marvels could remove the smug grin from Greyjoy and the somber brooding face of her half-brother. They seemed like children, eager to share what they'd seen and learned. Robb stopped in front of their mother and spoke in a low, yet eager voice. Her eyes widened slowly and soon after, she nodded, as he turned to the guards, "Sheathe your blades and lay down your bows! It's no beast, but a carriage! Our guest, Archer rides it himself."

Gasps and murmurs spread like the Pale Mare throughout the crowd, and Arya was no less shocked. That _thing_ , that rumbled and growled so awfully that the earth shook beneath them, that stalked so slow and unrelenting as though it knew nothing would stand in its path… was but a carriage? And just like that, she realized the great power this stranger held. It was unlike any carriages they knew of. This had no need of horses or aurochs to drag it through the dirt. It was of steel, and it had a heart, whether or not the heart was made of flesh. What else could have made that sound?

"Come out!" Robb called suddenly, and she returned from the musing world in her head to see him facing the beast - no, carriage.

A long silence, stretched further by the tension that made it seem a million years, passed. And just when they thought there would be no answer, a door finally opened.

* * *

 **Archer**

His hands clasped the steering wheel, and his eyes locked onto Robb as he turned to look at him through the tinted windows. "Come out!" he called. But Archer didn't know if he wanted to. So many things ran through his mind, and had ever since he came to this place. The company of Lord Stark's family was nothing more than his desperate attempts. When he explained cars and motorcycles, it was so he'd take his mind off the fact that he's in the middle of bumfuck nowhere with fictional characters he didn't know jack-fucking-shit about, in a place he didn't recognize. When he offered to show them his technology and home, it wasn't for the purpose of enlightening a medieval society or to ease the lives of farmers or some shit. It was a blind Hail Mary, because he was at a loss. He had no idea what the fuck he was even doing; he showed them the fucking armoury underneath! His trump card! First fucking day they visit his house and he blows his fucking load! He wasn't thinking straight, what do you want him to do?

And how could anyone expect him to be thinking straight? That was the question he asked once, and once only. Because he realized there was no one expecting him to, because no one here knew him. No parents, no friends, no siblings in all but blood and name. He was alone. And it terrified him. The guards weren't helping, either. You know, the guards surrounding him with spears, swords, bows, and crossbows? Yeah, believe it or not, they did absolutely nothing to alleviate the constant paranoia and worry that he was going to end up somewhere in a ditch with a medieval-forged sword shoved up his ass or something.

But honestly, what could he do? Even now, driving away was sure as fuck not an option. He'd shown them too much to simply turn back now. The armory… he couldn't risk anything, magical shields protecting his house or not. He didn't how much they'd last, or how long. Besides… maybe these guys actually deserved better. Archie was a realist, and the most probable prominent trait of noble houses in medieval times was, in short, cunty. Yes, cunty. Most were probably raised believing they were above everyone else who wasn't a noble of the same kind. But maybe he wasn't completely out of luck. The Stark family wasn't too bad, after all.

He remembered Lord Stark then. A man with a strong sense of honor, from what Archie gathered. Honestly, the fact that he kept his bastard son around said enough about the way he took his responsibilities seriously. The love his family showed him spoke of his being a good father. He knew, because Archie looked at his own fathers the same way.

He looked up from the steering wheel and landed his gaze on Robb's face, a face that had shown the understanding of Archie's predicament, patience befitting a wise adult, and even kindness. Then he looked at Jon (who made his way to stand with the soldiers for a reason lost to Archie), whose face that once passed brooding came to show equal kindness and sympathy, and Theon (Theon didn't help in any way other than to amuse Archie with his misfortune). Finally Lord Stark's wife was the one he was looking at, whatever her name was again. She was a true mother, a fact he'd caught on to quicker than anything else about her.

He realized then that perhaps he could've landed somewhere worse. And it was also then he realized that he'd kept them waiting for way too long, and he exclaimed, "Oh, shit!" and scrambled with panic to unbutton his seatbelt and open the door.

He emerged too quickly, as in the moment he did, swords were unsheathed in panic again and bows and crossbows were aimed at him. Archie raised his hands immediately as he stood on the edge of the doorframe (does it still count as a doorframe, though?) of the car. His eyes were wide and he looked around nervously. "You wanna put your fucking weapons down!? You're making me a bit nervous, here!" It was said out of frustration and held a hint of fear and panic. But it was enough to remind them who it was they were pointing their weapons at. A boy of seventeen.

Archie gave a sigh of relief and finally dropped his hands down to rest on top of the door. He whispered to himself, " _Christ._ " He looked around and saw Lady Stark, quickly perking up as he remembered her presence. _Shit, right_. He cleared his throat, "Oh, hey!" He jumped down and shut the door behind him before walking in front of the car and flourishing his arms towards it, "Ta-dah!" He probably looked like a goofy salesman showing off a new Ferrari. Although he'd imagine that in this world, a car alone was even more impressive than a new Ferrari being displayed back in his own.

She stepped forward slowly, only for the Whiskers Knight (as Archie had taken to calling him) to stop her. He was reassured by Robb, but the knight insisted on following by her side as she made her way to the vehicle. She stopped in front of it to stare, maybe to see if it would come to life and eat her or something. But when it didn't, her hand reached forward to touch the surface of the hood, rather gingerly so. "By the old gods and the new…"

"Yeah, Lord Stark mentioned something similar."

Her hand pulled away from the car and she faced him as she remembered, "Where is my lord husband?" Archie would have panicked then, knowing how it would look only slightly suspicious, but Robb immediately, and unknowingly, came to his rescue, explaining why Lord Stark wasn't with them. "I see…" She turned back to stare at the car again, "Is it yours, Archer?"

"No, it's my fathers', actually," he answered. A curt moment later and his eyes widened, having realized he just revealed the fact that both of his parents were dudes and gay as hell. Looking around, he was only surprised initially when no one had reacted, because he recalled how similar ' _Father's'_ and _'Fathers''_ sounded. As much as he loved his parents, he wasn't dumb enough to reveal that he was raised by two homos in a medieval society where homosexuality may very well be illegal, and frowned upon to be a child of homosexuals. He would _never_ be ashamed of his fathers, but he wasn't about to put himself in a nasty position (most likely a dungeon) just because of a pride he didn't have. "And it's called a _car_. I only called it a carriage so you'd understand what it's for, basically. Truth is, it's almost completely different."

She repeated the word to herself a few times before facing him yet again, "Well, we should not keep you out here." She announced to the crowd of civilians and guards, "Return to your duties."

To be honest, he was shocked by how self-restraining she was. Here she stood, in front of an invention nothing short of a miraculous in their day and age, and instead of asking questions like most probably everyone else would have, she made every effort to make him feel welcome. He could only feel respect for the woman. Whiskers commanded the guards back to their posts and Lady Stark the servants back into the castle. Jon disappeared before Archie saw the guy again, and Theon left with the guards, probably of his own accord. Kinda surprising, Archie'd thought the guys would have more questions to ask. He dismissed it. Probably had plans of their own, anyways. And it wasn't like Archie was going anywhere. His eyes scanned the people leaving and saw the reluctant youngest Stark girl (Was it Yara?) being urged inside by an old woman with robes on, probably her teacher or something.

"Archer," Lady Stark beckoned him with a nod, "It is a delayed welcome, but one due regardless. I welcome you to our home. My husband no doubt intends to hold a more official ceremony – a feast, most like – befitting as a welcome to someone of your stature."

He couldn't help but smile at that. Back home, he was treated like a kid as any other; here he was _the_ kid, from another world with technological marvels. He still can't believe this is happening. Who knows, maybe he's having a weird fever dream. An alarmingly vivid fever dream with no dizziness or delirious delusions. But he played along, _just in case_. "I'm very much flattered." His smile faltered at the corners of his mouth, "Sorry to say, though, he'll have to plan it for another day."

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, out of curiosity and confusion. "Is there something wrong?"

"You mean besides being in the middle of god knows where and getting shot with an arrow and sleeping under a roof that isn't even made from the same stone existing in my own world?" He gave a false chuckle. "Look, I mean no disrespect, really. I appreciate all you've done for me – that includes you, Robb," he said suddenly, pointing behind Lady Stark. The redhead smiled at that and bowed his head curtly in mutual respect. "…But I need to get home. Not only am I in a completely different world, I haven't even been in my own house for more than an hour. I need to, I don't know… get my bearings."

She closed her eyes and sighed, as if frustrated by herself, "Gods forgive me, of course. I had forgotten." She nodded almost hastily, "Of course, do what you must. Rest. I can only imagine you need it."

"Yeah…"

Robb stepped forward finally, holding out his hand, "You have shown us great things today, Archer." He noticed that Robb refused to use his informal nickname in front of his mother. "It is a gift given to no others, and I am thankful for it. I hope we may see more of each other."

 _Christ, the guy knows his manners, doesn't he?_ To him, Archie gave a wide smile, and shook the offered hand, "Likewise, Robb." When he pulled back, he glanced back at the car and sighed, "Well, I'd better get moving. I'll make sure to thank Lord Stark along the way if I see him."

Mother and son, both gave their polite farewells and ordered the portcullis raised. Archie wasted no time and drove out of there. Only two minutes later and he came across Ned and his escort. They stopped beside him and he lowered the window, staring deadpan at him.

"Yo."

The lord was taken aback for a split second by the odd greeting, but soon responded with a nod, "Greetings. Do you mean to leave already?"

"Yeah, kinda need to get things in order. See what's missing in the house, y'know, if any objects are missing or some shit, I dunno." His casual façade slipped for a short moment, "Need to clear my head…"

Lord Stark's face took on a more somber look, and he nodded grimly. "Of course. Take all the time you need. I know how it must feel to be ripped away from family and friends." Suddenly, his façade was gone completely; Archer's face became blank, and the very atmosphere about them seemed to turn bleak. He looked forward and nodded slowly. Ned cursed himself for his stupidity, "Forgive my bluntness."

"Nothing to forgive," was the nearly interrupting answer that came far too quickly.

The lord was silent for a moment, "Rest, return with a clear head to receive a welcome worthy of you."

Archer never met his eyes, "Yeah, sure. See you later, Lord Stark." Not waiting for a response, he closed the window and drove past to his house on foreign land. 'The silence was deafening' was a common phrase he'd read in literature, but he never truly understood it. Not until now. You know that subtle whistling in your ears, the one that sounds almost like tinnitus, that you never hear until you _really_ listen for it? It was there now, whether he was listening for it or not. The silence was truly deafening, because it left him to his thoughts, the reminders that he was alone. He was staring blankly as though he was in a coma, even when he parked his car and left the garage. Is this what it's like to be in a catatonic state? Probably not, since you're never aware of being in a catatonic state. And you probably weren't chanting shit over and over again like a mantra over and over again.

 _No parents, no Arno, no Moira, no Tristan, no Richard, no nothing._

It didn't echo in his mind, because echoes were eventually lost. But not his thoughts. They were as loud and piercing as the first time he repeated them. Regardless, it was the garage door shutting behind him loudly that awoke him with a jerk. He blinked and glanced around, before making his way to the front porch. He stood there, and after what felt like forever, he spoke out loud to no one in particular, "So… uh… Yeah, haha, very funny. You got me, I'm in the world of Game of Thrones, where everything is too detailed to be a dream because I frankly know jack-shit about the books and the TV show so it sure as fuck isn't my own imagination. But, uh, it has to be, right? It has to be a dream. I mean, there's no actual way I _can_ be in a fictional universe; I mean, come on." He chuckled a trembling chuckle, "Yeah… But, um… just in case it is… could you please start appearing? Right, right now would, would be fine. Because, _uhm_ …" his voice cracked at the last word. "… I, uh… I don't think I can make it, out here. Y'know? Not… Not mentally. Not without you two. Or my friends."

He stopped then for a while, because he was afraid that if he kept going any longer, he might not be able to compose himself. So he paused, until he could resume, "So if any of you want to appear at all, now would be just swell." He stopped talking and waited for what was probably five minutes for the smallest hint that they were out there; a whisper in the wind, a paper airplane hitting him in the eye that said something like ' **We're out there!** ', or maybe even a text message that read ' **We're on our way** '.

The silence was his answer.

And he accepted that answer with a nod, venturing inside, looking down at his feet like a sad kid that had just been scolded by the teacher. The door shut close behind him, and he removed his shoes automatically. He didn't stop pacing about in the hallway until he caught sight of a picture on the wall. A picture of him flanked by both his fathers, a purposely stupid and exaggerated grin on his face. He stared at it without reacting, until an eternity later, he laughed. And he laughed and laughed and laughed, eyes never leaving the picture. The sight was probably fucking frightening, he thought, because he was starting to realize his laughter was turning hysterical. He sounded manic, for at that moment, he was.

His vision blurred suddenly.

Wait… When did he stop laughing and start crying? Where did the picture go? Why was he looking at the carpet? Did he fall?

He didn't know when, but he didn't care. He could do nothing but cover his mouth with his hand in a vain attempt to hold back the choking sobs. Nothing helped. He tried thinking happy thoughts, happy memories. Nothing. Nothing but pain and grief. He did nothing else that day but weep. By the time his eyes dried, he had already fallen asleep on a carpet wet with his tears.

* * *

 **A/N: There it is. Turned a bit depressing at the end, but Archie's only human after all. Don't worry though, there won't be any depressing shit except if it's necessary for the plot (not often).**

 **Time to answer the reviews:**

 **GentlestCobra2: There'll be romance, yes, but it'll be single, and the character I think will be most fitting for Archie, not just the hottest looking candidates.**

 **Saint River: The ones Archie becomes close friends with will probably get guns sometime in the future.**

 **TylerMech66: "du-aagh"? What are you, an anime character?**

 **DarkDust27: O rly? Robb and Archie, you're guessing? Interesting...**

 **That's it for this time.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Quick not before you start: the name of the story will finally be changed one week from now to "Icarus".**

 **That's it, now get going.**

* * *

Oh, god, his shoulders hurt.

Archie struggled to rise with a dead arm, which he only realized when he face-planted from trying to push himself off the ground. His other hand was too busy holding a throbbing temple that shelved a messier-than-normal- hair above and about it, and the dry throat wasn't helping, nor was the crust in his eyes. He could only wait until feeling returned to his arm, and he sat up, leaning back against the wall with eyes staring in front of him.

He couldn't believe he managed to fall asleep on the carpet when he could barely fall asleep anywhere outside his own bed, and he wished he hadn't, too, because the entire right side of his body hurt.

Without a sound uttered from him barring his tired sigh, he went to the bathroom to wash his eyes with cold water before going to the kitchen, and took some aspirin. He washed it down with tap water and clearing his dry throat at the same time.

He stood there, only with silence and his thoughts. The pain from losing everyone he ever loved hadn't passed, not by a long shot, but nor had it worsened (mostly because he forced himself to keep impossibly optimistic that they'd return to his life).

This was the part where most would probably say they felt empty, but not him. He wishes, though. He wishes, because nothing is better than this; the sadness, the helplessness, the loneliness. He hated it. He hated how powerless he felt. But still he realized how fucking stupid his line of thought undoubtedly was, not because it was childish or silly. So many people that had been at a point in their life where they'd felt empty all wish they felt anything – even pain! But he couldn't see it. Maybe he hadn't gotten there quite yet, but who knows? Considering how he was feeling now, maybe severe depression wasn't far off.

"No," he said suddenly to himself. The thought of it made him almost panic.

It was one of his greatest fears. Waking up one morning, just depressed. He probably wouldn't think much of it, until he woke the next day feeling the same. And the next, and the next. Forever repeating the cycle until you found yourself staring down the barrel of a gun you yourself was holding. It fucking terrified him. _No, that shit's not happening! I'm not gonna fucking let it!_ His hands clenched on the edge of the sink in anger and fear. " _What the fuck can I even do, though?_ " he asked himself, whispering. _There's nothing for me here, nobody. No one here for me._

Similar thoughts occupied his mind until slowly he realized what he was thinking.

His father, the one that had once suffered from depression, always said when you're depressed, even the solution to the smallest problems was invisible to you, impossible. No matter what, you couldn't see an answer to questions you plagued yourself with. Archie realized that this was exactly what was happening to him, and he wasn't going to let it fuck him over. He wasn't becoming a shut in just to waste away. _I promised my parents I wouldn't do that to myself._ So, what was the answer he was looking for? What was the garishly obvious solution?

 _The Starks_ , he thought. But then, they didn't know him. It was just a medieval lord that looked like Sean Bean and several other people he didn't even know; strangers. Nobodies.

He became aware suddenly that that was the doubt speaking, not him. His own doubt was trying to convince him, but that was bullshit. They put a roof over his head, took care of his wound (even if they were indirectly the cause of it), welcomed him to their home, and fed him. It was so obvious now, in hindsight, just how much they'd done for him, and how much more they were doing. Lord Stark was, at this very moment, preparing a feast in his goddamn honor! How many people could claim a medieval lord was throwing feasts in their names? Not fucking many, that's for sure. He wasn't letting this easy chance (he called it easy in his mind with foolish hope) at a salvation for his psyche and person to go to waste just because he didn't want to see the fucking answer. No, fuck that shit. The Starks helped him, and he was damned before he was going to discard their friendship that easily.

They deserved better, and so did he!

His back straightened slowly. He wasn't letting this be the end of him. He lived an easy life and he sure as fuck wasn't bending over to death the moment his life changed. His heart filled with an unshakeable determination, he turned around to stride from the kitchen. And he walked into the corner of the kitchen's bar. "Shit!" Archie grunted out. "Motherfucker!"

He held his pained hip while glaring at the corner, as if _that_ would make it apologize or something. When _shockingly_ it didn't, he growled in frustration before making his way to the computer room, only glancing at the family pictures on the wall. The lights switched on automatically to reveal two long tables on either side of the room, two PCs on each with monitors adjacent to each. Thanks to his fathers' fortune, each one had excessively powerful specs, and there was not a single existing game that they couldn't play on very highest setting. It'd probably take about a million software processes for the things to bluescreen. Okay, so maybe a million is a _slight_ exaggeration, but still.

However, his parents still were very much against raising a spoiled brat, so they told him he could only use it on one condition. He would only play on these powerhouses when his friends were sleeping over. However, they'd probably make an exception now.

Because he was probably going to need a lot of tabs open in Chrome with the amount of information he needed. He may not have seen more than a couple episodes of the show, but the internet had seen everything. And he needed that everything if he was going to survive. So he sat on the closest one and pushed down the power button, not needing to wait a long time as the SSD woke Windows 10 up quickly. The moment the familiar wallpaper of Ethan Klein squatting in his VapeNation attire appeared (a stupid joke his friend Lucas pulled once that they hadn't come around to remove), Archie's eyes flicked to the bottom right corner of the monitor screen, and pumped his fists in the air with a, "YES!" He recognized the internet icon.

Wasting no time in his excitement, Chrome opened quickly thereafter and the first thing he searched on Google was ' _Game of_ _Thrones_ '. Immediately, and the first things that appeared were the HBO site, Game of Thrones on Wikipedia (worthless, since Wikipedia rarely had as many in-detail articles as Wikias did), and Game of Thrones on IMDB. He sighed and, instead of scrolling down to look for the Wikia of Game of Thrones, he searched for it impatiently. He saw the link that read ' _Game of Thrones wiki_ '. He found it and clicked it without hesitance.

He was greeted by a sand-colored site with blue article titles and tabs. The sides showed a background of what was no doubt a map of the world, but he could only glimpse very little, not even able to understand the names of the castles shown. From then on, he searched on every character he knew. He opened up tabs on Eddard Stark, Robb Stark, Jon Snow, and Theon Greyjoy.

However, when he first went to read about one of them (he chose Eddard Stark first) he found that all of the information about the events of the show was missing, only the background info was left for his perusal. Actually, scratch that. It wasn't that the information was just missing, they had been replaced.

By timers.

Archie frowned, "What the fuck…" He checked the other three, and found that all of their pages read the same thing. All the Season 1 countdowns read:

' **Months: [8]**

 **Weeks: [2]**

 **Days: [2]**

 **Hours: [8]**

 **Minutes: [7]**

 **Seconds [12]** '

He looked at the time: **08:43**

 _So at 16:50 on that day, I'll know what happens? Is it because that's when the events will be occurring? Great fucking help that'll be._ He would have appreciated some prep-time, but it seems he's not to receive that luxury.

Archie then searched for the other Starks in the _Family_ list of Eddard Stark, but none of the names were actually names, only links that were just a trio of question marks followed by their last names of Stark (Robb Stark and Jon Snow were still showing for some reason). He clicked on the question mark links and looked through them, and was frustrated to find that all they showed were pictures of Lady Stark, and the Stark daughters and sons.

However, something caught his attention. All of the personal information, names and dates of birth and all that shit, and background information, now said ' _Learn more information_ '

"Learn more infor – What the fuck do you think I'm trying to do?!" Archie nearly yelled at the monitor. He tried looking for other characters he didn't even recognize, but found nothing. There was literally nothing to find, no locations but Winterfell, and no characters but the ones he'd already had the pleasure (or in Grejoy's case, displeasure) of meeting. More than half of them had classified fucking information, too, and unless they were in a witness protection program with the FBI, Archie could guess just about fuck-all why.

He leaned back into his chair with a defeated sigh. So much for his determination. Even if it had nothing to do with the fact that he was going to meet and befriend the Stark family anyways (that is, if he doesn't manage to fuck it up, which he most likely will), it would've definitely made his life easier. Certainly would've encouraged him further, as well. _Hold on,_ he thought and perked up, _Maybe the books… maybe I'm in the book universe or some shit. God knows the fans love mentioning the superiority of the books, Arno and Moira did it every time after a new episode came out. Maybe there's a big enough difference that there's info on the book wiki rather than the show wiki. Would make sense if I landed in the books' universe._

Rejuvenated, Archie quickly found it and clicked the link that read ' _A Wiki of Ice and Fire_ '. _Creative_ , he thought sarcastically. He deflated faster than an old geezer with erectile dysfunction when he entered Eddard's page again, all the info barring the background replaced with timers. Perhaps the only noticeable difference was that this wikia used artwork instead of pictures from the cast to portray the characters, as Eddard, whose visage now differed from Sean Bean's greatly (this particular artwork made him look like a long-faced Thorin Oakenshield or some shit), was now drawn cleaning a greatsword, most likely the ' _Ice_ ' that Robb mentioned, whilst seated between the roots of a tree with a face carved into it.

"Goddammit…"

He sat there for about a minute when suddenly a thought formed in his head. What if the reason it said ' _Learn more information_ ' was because _he_ didn't know anything about them? What if the only information there was what he knew? "Fuckin' helpful, great."

But that didn't explain all of the background information. That, he knew even less of than the events of the books and show considering his friends only talked about the episodes, not the background. So why was there a single written word that didn't belong to a countdown, but to actual information? He dismissed the thought for now, _Guess it'll have to do_.

Archie closed down all the tabs from ' _A Wiki of Ice and Fire_ ' and clicked on Eddard's to start reading. However, when he started, he immediately stopped out of hesitance. He didn't think about it until he realized all info about the future was lost to him, but reading up on the past of these people wasn't really the smartest decision. Not now when he thought about it. What if something slipped, which it would undoubtedly do with his dumb ass, and they'd ask where he'd read it? He didn't wanna find himself in that position.

He closed Chrome, firm in his belief that it was the wiser choice. Besides, maybe it'd be better to hear it from them or to read it from a book. At least Eddard's past. He remembered the fat king and Eddard sitting and talking in the second – maybe third episode, he couldn't remember – about a rebellion they fought in. Maybe he could find out more in a book from Winterfell's library (if they had one).

 _Only one way to find out._ He looked at the time to see that it was 08:54. _Maybe I should wait a bit. Give these poor bastards some time before they suffer through a day with me_.

God have mercy on the poor souls.

* * *

 **Catelyn**

"When will the feast be, mother?"

"Your father said preparations would be made for tonight, little Sansa," said Catelyn Stark, matriarch of the Stark family, as she combed the auburn red Tully hair of her daughter, a colour the young girl was bestowed by her mother's blood in her veins.

This was their wont when a feast was fast approaching; making sure Sansa looked her best as much as the girl herself wanted. And whenever she would look upon the sharp-featured visage of her daughter, one framed by a mane of flame, Cat mistook herself to be staring into a mirror of her youth. It was a sentiment many who'd known her since her younger years shared.

"I'm not little anymore, mother," Sansa said, and it was true, no matter how petulant or indignant her voice might've sounded. It had been years since she first bloomed, and her once-flat person had now grown shapely, not at all long before it would find itself burgeoning into a true woman's body (and hopefully with Catelyn's hips, for the husband's sake).

"You'll always be little to your mother and father, child. Always."

"Isn't Father the one who always says we can't remain children forever? Winter is coming." The girl said the words not mockingly, but yet without the seriousness her lord father utters them with.

Cat's eyebrows rose, "Listening in on your parents' conversations? Sansa, Sansa." She tutted disapprovingly, and her daughter quickly corrected a misunderstanding which was not a misunderstanding at all, with almost frantic sputtering of apologies. "Relax, Sansa. I jest. You're too good for such deceit," she said with a loving voice and cupped her daughter's cheek where she was looking up from her seat.

There was a curt silence as Cat continued combing her daughter's hair when she asked one of her most common questions, "Do you think he will find me beautiful, mother?"

She smirked knowingly and spoke teasingly, "Whomever do you speak of, little Sansa?"

Sansa's voice embarrassed, she shyly said, "Ser Archer, of course."

"He's not a ser, my daughter."

"Do you think Father will knight him at the feast?"

"Only other knights, lords, or the king may offer such an honor to others," she said, remembering clearly her home's customs, "or by the grace of a septon's blessing."

"Father is a lord."

"Yet he is a lord of the North. Here they follow the old gods, Sansa; you know this. Their culture has no knights, nor do they have desire for any."

"Couldn't he just send a raven to the king, tell him to knight Archer?"

"A man _asks_ a king, they do not _tell_."

Cat felt the hair in her hand slide, and knew her daughter looked down in either shame or embarrassment again. Perhaps both. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"I know, my love, I know. But if you're ever in the presence of the royal court, make no such mistake; or any court for that matter." She felt Sansa nod and returned to the subject previous, "Regardless, even if Ned was inclined to go through the effort, are you so sure Archer would wish it?"

"Why wouldn't he?" asked Sansa with naiveté, one very becoming of her. "Being knighted is a great honour; who would refuse?"

"Mayhap a certain someone in a whole new world not his own? Absent his family and beloved? Someone who might not have the strength to bear the burden of a knight's vow on his soul? Most like, he has naught the strength of will or the strength of body to live as a knight."

Her daughter remained silent, from realization most like.

"Do you see, Sansa? He is naught more than a poor boy, alone and frightened, without doubt. He is not a fighter, either. It would be a meaningless title, even if he were to train with a sword."

"Poor Archer," Sansa said, melancholically and dramatically, like a forlorn maiden waiting for her knight love's return. "Who will be seated by him, mother? I wish to sit close, and comfort him. Perhaps he'd want to talk about his pains."

Cat was firm in her refusal, "No, Sansa."

"Why not?"

"Sansa, I understand he saved Robb, and he might seem a hero to you. But you must know of how he spoke. He's not proper nor might he be willing to speak of his grief. Leave him be." _True pains are nothing alike the stories, child. They cannot be abolished by a lover's embrace, or by tender kisses upon their cheeks._

"He might not be proper…" Sansa hesitated clearly; she was making excuses mainly to convince herself, "but he wouldn't swear in the company of ladies. And if he needs space, why are we preparing him a feast, or seating him with anyone else during it?"

 _She's not heard of the boy as I have._ Archer's crude tongue and dismissal of propriety was perhaps his character's most prominent trait, as Ned stated adamantly.

"Because anyone he's seated with will not pity him nor broach the sensitive subject you seem so ardent comforting him of." Sansa only sighed, for she knew better than argue further. "And all of that aside; Sansa, I hadn't expected such a suggestion from you. You know to seat a man and a woman stranger to the other is improper."

"I didn't suggest seating us together, only closely."

"And you shall. But he will sit next to Robb. And the _bastard_."

Sansa didn't need to hear the veiled poison in her voice to know her mother's hatred for her half-brother. Nonetheless, she was shocked, and it showed when she turned around suddenly in her seat to face her, "Next to Jon?! Will Archer not be offended?"

"The boy spoke of his culture and customs. Where he is from, bastardy is naught but history, and the word is only used in insults, not to denote someone's true status. There are no bastards where he's from, only boys born out of wedlock. To his people it is no sin." As much as she resented the bastard's insulting existence being shown such indifference, she tried her hardest not to resent Archer, for it _was_ his land's wont after all.

Sansa seemed appalled at that, "How could it not be? It's wrong for a woman to so freely bear another's child-"

"We know nothing," interrupted Catelyn. "So we speak nothing." She wasn't allowing Sansa to continue this line of thought for another second. "His culture is his, and their gods are theirs; to judge him and his only because it differs from our own is wrong. Make no mention of whatever you intended to say to me, Sansa. Assume nothing, and realize you can only know what he tells you. But do be wary of asking him. He might not yet be ready about his homeland."

Sansa nodded and looked down, though she knew Cat wasn't mad at her.

"Today is to be a day for welcoming, and gratitude. If this world is to be his new home, we must make him feel as though it is. And we must let it be known the Starks never take actions such as what Archer took to save Robb lightly."

"Will father grant him a boon then?"

"Why would he do so? He has already given it."

"But Archer would be honored by a ceremony," the girl argued presumptuously.

"Would he? From what I gathered, your father granted him a boon so abruptly on the chance that Archer would find such a ceremony inappropriate, perhaps out of embarrassment or he might find it insulting."

"Oh…" That too seemed to have given her something to think about.

Although it pained her ever so slightly to realize this, Catelyn knew nothing would change. Sansa would watch her words, aye, but naught else would differ in the end. She would still remain the same naïve child she always was; Cat expected no difference this time. Perhaps it wasn't inevitable, but it was likely that Sansa would say something to anger or harm Archer whilst not realizing it, and little Sansa would be found weeping from his harsh words.

She sighed to herself and quietly resumed her combing. She's done all she can, now.

* * *

 **Arya**

Arya grinned from her seat on the barrel as her brother was beating away at a training dummy like it insulted his mother.

As she had to prepare for the feast, todays classes with Septa Mordane were cancelled so that she would prepare. And she was grateful for it, despite not taking the time she was given to actually prepare like Sansa, who was probably worrying her stupid head with trying to look pretty for Archer, instead going to find Jon and Robb and Theon to question. She found Jon in the training yard first and had begun to torment him with questions, though he always took it better than anyone else beside their father, perhaps. Her mother would most likely find her and try to force her into a dress anyway, but she resolved to stand fast this time (futilely, though she didn't know that).

She knew she was annoying Jon with her constant questions, and as much as the thought of that amused her, it wasn't the cause for her grinning. No, the grin was one of excitement. Even the thought of having to wear a dress to the feast did nothing to dispel it. She was finally going to be able to question Archer himself, about… well, about everything.

Where is he from? How come he can speak the same tongue as they do if he's from another world? Do people ride horses or use the same horse-less carriage as he does? Is it true he doesn't care if Jon's a bastard? Is it true he can talk to people across the world? Can people fly where he's from? Do people still use sword where he's from? What are the weapons like in his world?

In her mind, she took pause. These sorts of erratic whorl of thoughts were commonplace in her head. Her mind was usually chaos, but she was used to it. It was simply how she was. Doesn't mean she didn't know when to stop.

…Sometimes.

And Arya asking herself these questions would only drive her mad with the lack of answers. Instead, she settled for asking Jon, who was currently struggling to focus on his techniques with her unrelenting inquiry.

"What do you think he's going to ask for?"

"Ask?" he questioned absentmindedly, sidestepping an imaginary overhead strike from his fearless wooden opponent.

"Father gave him a boon, didn't he?"

"He did."

There was a short silence before she prodded, "And?"

"And what? What makes you think he's going to ask for something?"

"Because it's a feast! If he asks father for something in front of everyone, he won't be able to refuse."

That would be the only point in their conversation where Jon would pause to glance at her, "You're far too clever for your own good, Arya."

She shrugged. Not really; most children did the same when asking for toys, though they didn't always succeed. She was nothing special. Even if most would grow up to be idiots.

"But Archer's not that sort of man. He wouldn't do that; at least not because of that reason."

 _Why not? Because he doesn't care you're a bastard?_

Her smile fell. She wasn't going to assume Archer _was_ that type of person, but she wasn't dismissing the possibility. Not like Jon. But then, she couldn't blame him for doing so. Truthfully, she felt only joy that Jon would be treated like everyone else; both for her brother's sake and her own. It would make liking Archer far easier. She was tired of hating most people she met; all of them the same, always thinking girls shouldn't do as she did. Liking someone was less taxing.

She could only hope his attitude towards girls were at the very least the same as Jon's. She loved her brother, and he only supported her adventures and dreams, but he could still be as prideful and overly manly like everyone else. He hadn't said anything to Arya, but she'd heard him comment on women doing what women 'shouldn't'.

Despite his _idiocy_ , it did little to strain her love for him. It was only with him she felt as free as she could in Winterfell.

Upon reaching the end of her musing, Jon returned to his training just as her curiosity returned to her, and realizing only a few seconds had passed, she asked, " _Pretend_ he will ask for something, then. What do you think he'd ask for?"

"I don't know."

"A horse?"

He gave a grunt resembling a noncommittal chuckle as he struck the dummy thrice. "He's already been given Cinnamon.

"Cinnamon?"

"Don't ask."

She shrugged it off. "What about a suit of armour?"

"Too expensive."

"He saved Robb's life. That has to be worth a lot of coin."

A breath gusted sharply past his lips when his wooden hand-and-a-half struck true past the dummy's skillful defenses. "He wouldn't need armour. Who would he fight?"

"The bandits that shot him?"

"Already dead. Made sure of that."

"What about the rest?"

He shot her a quick glance, "What rest?"

"The rest of the bandits," she said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. And to her, it was. How could he not see the pattern?

"There are no more bandits, and if there are, they're not in the same band. "

She couldn't blame him for his denial. If she was right and these bandit attacks last month all came from the same bandit group (including the vastly numerous killed by her father's bannermen), it'd be a warband the likes of which never seen since the days of Gendel and Gorne. Okay, perhaps that comparison was embellished ever so slightly, but it would yet be cause for worry.

"So all the raids in the North that happened in the past months are all coincidences?"

"Yes."

"And it's also a coincidence all of the victims of the raids died similarly miles apart and all their loot were hidden in the same ways? And that the hoards found by the lords' men were never taken back, or were attempted upon to take back? That would only mean they'd taken enough from the loot, and since so little was found of so much missing it could only mean they've taken too much for a smaller group."

That would be the only point in their conversation where Jon fully stopped to face her, his training sword hanging at his side. "Where did you hear all of this?"

She froze, mouth open, "Uhh…"

"You 'overheard'?" he asked, adding an emphasis in his voice that implicated the second word. "Since you spoke so _much_ , I'd stake my neck you overheard just as _much_."

She nodded, biting her lip and averting her gaze to the ground. It wasn't as though she could help it. It was her parents' fault they forced her to be a lady and go to all those stupid lessons the septa held. It was torture, so how could she not help but wander away from the sewing and singing and the idiotic gossiping? How could she resist overhearing about these suspicions her father spoke of to her mother and the maester?

He sighed, "As I said, you're far too clever for your own good. Next time, don't show it or you'll give yourself away."

 _If I was so clever, I wouldn't have slipped._

Quick to change the subject, regardless of how obvious the attempt was, she asked, "What about a sword?"

He shook his head, "He's got far better."

The moment both realized what he said, their eyes widened; Arya did so out of surprise and excitement, and Jon looked almost terrified.

"He's got better!?" She exclaimed.

" _Shh_!" he hissed desperately, "Be quiet!" Her smile returned, but before she was allowed to even speak, Jon swiftly said, "Say nothing, Arya. You heard me say nothing."

She frowned, "What's wrong with you?"

He looked to the side as if ashamed. Then he faced her again, "I promised I wouldn't mention anything. We all did."

"About what? Weapons?"

"I can't say that or I would be breaking my promise."

"You already did," she pointed out mischievously. But his visage made it clear how serious the matter was.

"Listen to me, Arya," he whispered. "Pretend as though I've said nothing. What I know, no one else can know. Please. I promised Archer, and I can't break my first promise to a man, not one this important. It concerns life and death."

With those words, the significance of this promise adhered to her mind, and suddenly she felt less excited about questioning the outlander. This was most like larger than her curiosity, she realized, and it wasn't worth betraying Jon over.

"Alright," she said solemnly. "I won't ask about any weapons, then."

"No– " He stopped his short outburst. "I… think it'd be more suspicious if you didn't ask about weapons." It was said with humour, and she smiled. "No, ask. Just… don't ask anything too… direct." At her look of confusion, he said, "Ask if his world still use swords. When he says no, ask him what type of weapons they use. Simple as that."

She nodded excitedly, and they both returned to their commonplace routine of Jon sparring with a most formidable dummy and Arya goodheartedly bothering him to no end, though this time for the sake of it, because she knew her questions would be answered before long by Archer himself.

* * *

 **Archer**

Fingers tapped on the steering wheel, foot was laid shaking, yet firm out of habit, against the pedal, and Archie's breathing erratic; he was far from claustrophobic.

In fact, he preferred isolation from people he didn't know, and even the people he knew were usually contacted through online softwares like _Discord_ and _Teamspeak_ when playing video games, and only his _**fathers**_ , and two closest friends, _**Arno**_ and _**Moira**_ , were the ones he saw outside of school _regularly_. The ones he'd expect to see on his way back to the house, the ones he wouldn't hesitate to invite inside.

 _ **Fathers, Arno, Moira…**_

He was far from claustrophobic. But right now, all he felt was tense, cramped inside this massive vehicle, and it was hard to breathe, like a cold hand was slowly closing around his throat and he could do nothing about it, and as the portcullis rose to allow him entry, the lingering panic hadn't gone away and he quickly – too quickly! Fuck! – removed his foot from the clutch and shook from the sudden engine stop before his trembling fingers almost frantically – no, pretty fucking frantically actually – turned the key to start the engine again, and this time much to his own panicked impatience he took his time and slowly let go of the clutch and the wheels began turning again, and Archie rolled his shoulders to loosen the shirt stuck to the oh-so cold sweat on his back and under his armpits and he did this whilst parking amidst the courtyard like last time but even as the car stopped his panic didn't and–

 _FUCK!_

What the fuck is happening to him!? He wanted to fucking _SCREAM_!

His panicked breaths that filled the silence in the car was stopped short by his hand slamming over his mouth, like a knife would stop a heart, and he growled a growl that wasn't a scream only because it too low to be heard by anyone but himself into his hand. His eyes welled with tears of fury and frustration and terror.

 _Was that a panic attack?_ Is this what it's like? He felt trapped, and terrified, and almost laughed, because it was true. He _was_ trapped. Not inside the car; no, it wasn't as simple as opening the door and exiting. This world was his cage, and he'd never leave it.

It was only memories of the day before that he stopped himself from laughing, because he recalled what happened then when he did.

His trembling fingers calmed, and the hand clamped over his lips and nose seemed to help steady his breathing, and its grip slowly loosened, morphing his face into a grimace when it pulled at his cheeks and lips as it slid down his face like heavy raindrops.

His eyes shut close, he leaned his head back and took a deep breath, and then another, and then another twenty, before he opened his eyes and saw this world again and not the one he left behind.

"Thank fuck for tinted windows," he said to himself. Considering how many of these medieval pricks were gathering around like hens to stare at the vehicle, tinted windows were all that stood between him and complete fucking humiliation (he noticed at the back of his mind there were fewer than the day before, probably preparing for the feast and all).

No, seriously, thank fuck he managed to park the front of the truck away from their prying, curious, and terrified eyes, because while the rear windscreen and the side windows were tinted pitch black to anyone outside, the front windscreen still allowed some light through, as little as it did.

Still… as annoying as curiosity of the masses usually were, it was funny to see these people peering nervously at him.

 _BEEEEEEP!_ came the sudden honk, and he grinned mischievously, with a residual hint of nervousness, when gasps and even some screams resounded as a response.

Thinking quick, before anyone thought the car was a monster come alive, he opened the seatbelt, and emerged from the door.

He recalled then his thoughts about it not being as simple as the car being his cage, because when he stood at the edge, a respective arm atop the door and roof of the car, he breathed in what felt like freedom. Fresh, calming, and his throat opened fully again, the constriction in his chest liberated.

He didn't hear the gasps of amazement when he was seen; no, he closed his eyes again and savored the normality of the moment for so long the crowd thought he was a statue of flesh.

"Archer!" was the sound that pierced the calm the crowd couldn't. Calmly, he looked to see Robb coming towards him, a look of surprise on his face, and leather the most prominent material he sported. More specifically a tunic, and what Archie _guessed_ were training boots and trousers, mostly because they looked specialized.

And he felt confused.

Why? Not because of what he was wearing. No, it was because he felt calm.

Maybe the car wasn't a cage. Maybe the world _was_ , as he suspected before. And it was perhaps either the Starks of Winterfell that he felt like he could make it, as grim as the walls and the Starks were.

It was one of the first things he picked up when he waded his way into the castle with the help of Jon and Theon, an arrow sticking out his shoulder like a big fat fucking sign that screamed, ' _Hey assholes, I've been shot and I need help!_ ' (Bullets were obviously more subtle than that, and more deadly.)

Regardless, he recalled, through his damn-near unbearable pain and, later, drug-induced haze from that _Poppy_ -something shit Master Louis fed him, he had this somber feeling from the atmosphere, like the castle itself had suffered harsher shit than Archie could even fathom. There were stories engraved into the walls, and these stories spoke to him. He just couldn't listen.

It was impossible not to respect Winterfell.

Still it didn't change Archie's disposition to gloomy and doomy atmosphere; he hated it. And it was this that surprised him; that he felt more comfortable here with the Starks in Winterfell than he did home alone, despite the somber stories written in the walls of the place. At least the people within proved more wholesome.

"I'm glad to see you again," said the young Stark now before him, proving his point unknowingly. Archie jumped down.

"Likewise," he said, shaking Robb's hand with one of his own and locking the car doors remotely with the other. "Yo, what's with the get-up? You preparing for a BDSM convention?" He noticed Robb had shaved.

The archaic teenager looked positively puzzled, "I… beg your pardon?"

Archie waved it off, "Never mind, just more leather than I'm used to, don't worry. Good to see you and all, but how about we get out of here." He glanced at his surroundings, more correctly at the people gawking at him and the car he just jumped out of. "I feel like I'm a prize on a display here."

"Of course." Robb's face turned tough, and faced the crowd, "Return to your duties!" He had one of them bring the news of Archie's arrival to Lord Stark.

He had to admit, he continued to be impressed. The guy managed to command respectfully _and_ respectably for someone his age; not a single one disobeyed, and the crowd dispersed to leave behind a few that tended to the nearby stable.

"I expect you understand, but it is yet inappropriate. My apologies."

Archie's head jerked suddenly to Robb out of confusion, "Huh?" _How eloquent, Archie. Stupid prick._

"The commonfolk… Their curiosity is less than hospitable, I would say."

"Oh, that? Nah, don't sweat it," he reassured, "You wanna talk about 'less than hospitable', my swearing would be a fucking party – see!"

Robb grinned at that, "Indeed." He gestured to the way he came from, "You may come with me if you wish."

"To the BDSM convention?"

He seemed embarrassed at that, and Archie repressed a snort. "I fear I don't know what you speak of… This is the way to the training courtyard."

"Oh. Yeah, sure. Why not." He speculated it was the direct entrance to the training grounds, unlike the course his tour the day before took him; behind the bleachers. They undoubtedly didn't call it that, but it was a similar enough structure, so he took to referring to it as such.

Robb smiled and Archie fell in beside him. "Your arrival this soon was unexpected, so accept our apologies for not greeting you."

"Look," he said suddenly, "Don't worry about me, okay? My antics should say something of what I expect from other people, and the fact that you guys probably saved my life and put a roof over my head when I was too far from my own with an arrow in my shoulder should indicate you've far surpassed my expectations."

Robb was wordless, likely not used to someone as blunt as Archie was. "Forgive me…"

He sighed, "Goddammit." He faced Robb, "Sorry if I sounded annoyed. I wasn't. And trust me, I know how easy it is to make a mistake; it's like someone telling you to stop saying sorry so you have to repress the urge to say sorry for saying it so much. I won't get mad if you apologize again. It doesn't annoy me, but that's the exact reason I'm telling you. It's gonna take a lot to piss me off and make me feel unwelcome, and so far, you guys have just been angels." Robb couldn't help his smile at that. "All I'm saying is, don't worry so much. Just relax. I know I will."

"Very well, Archer," he said with a nod.

The rest of the walk was comfortable, and gave Archie the time to think if his voice was still shook up like he was from whatever just happened in the car. If it was, the noble next to him didn't seem to notice, and for that he was thankful.

To take his mind of the subject, Archie said aloud, "By the way, you can still call me Archie." He had a light look of surprise at the mention of the unexpected topic. "I mean, you don't gotta force it, but I can imagine your parents are very strict about family values and principles and all that, considering their position, and they probably insisted you call me by my, uh… 'Proper' name," he said, motioning quotation marks with his hands, a gesture that confused Robb. "…That was to represent quotation marks," he explained. "Y'know, to emphasize a word ironically."

Realization dawned on Robb's face, "Because it resembles quotation marks in writing."

"Exactly."

"Well, I may assure you that my father and mother haven't scolded me for anything of the ilk. I simply thought it proper to address you by your full name in the face of such a crowd."

"Ah…" said Archie with a knowing tone.

"What is it?"

" _That_. Propriety and forced niceties. I hate them."

Robb gave a smile so naturally charming Archie might've fallen in love if he shared his parents' disposition. "Truly? I could never have divined such a thing alone."

"Yeah, yeah, fucking hilarious."

His tone may have been dry, but he was almost elated at least someone was starting to crack jokes. _Started to feel like I was becoming the class clown again._

"No, I won't go off on a rant, because if I do, I won't be able to stop. I'll just say this: If I respect someone enough and I wanna show it, I'll use titles in front of other people. If it's just me and the other person in privacy and they still insist, I'm gonna start wondering why I'd be on friendly terms with someone like that. Of course, it may just be the case as it is with your father and I; we've just met. In that case, it's understandable."

"Forgive me, but if I may speak truly…" Only a second passed before Robb remember who he was speaking to, and continued, "It didn't show yesterday. That is if you _do_ respect Lord Stark."

Archie frowned like Robb said something stupid, "'Course I do. If I didn't show it yesterday, it should be obvious why. I mean… Put yourself in my shoes. Would your thoughts be with the titles of the people you meet, or the actual people, themselves?"

"You make a sound point. I hope, however, you'll find it in yourself to refer to my father…" He raised his fingers in a mimicry of Archie's previous gesture, "'properly', during the feast. It would be appreciated, not to mention a pleasant surprise. My parents have been lenient with your situation in consideration and seems intent on continuing to forgive you for it. To refer to him respectfully according to our own traditions could garner gratitude, I would think."

"In front of other people? No problem. Like I said, I respect your father – hell, I respect your whole family. Just don't expect me to bend over for any other lord with a Big-Dick Complex and the need to show it."

Robb gave a sudden snort; he hadn't expected Archie's humor to take such a turn from their topic of discussion. "Seven hells…" He looked at his guest. "Do all jest as you do where you come from?"

Archie then truly grinned, and the Stark beside him realized he'd been faking his former ones because this one was unlike anything he'd seen Archie do. It was truly wolfish, the way his brows furrowed so slightly, and his lips pulled back sharply, not to mention the teeth he exposed. His fangs did little to disillusion the aspect. Perhaps had Robb seen this grin from afar, not knowing cause for it, he might've been unnerved, but currently he knew it was a grin of mischief, and his own only grew wider.

"Don't worry, there's still hope for my people. I'm the bad egg of the bunch."

He hadn't heard that analogy before, but he could guess as to its meaning. Had his tone not been humorous, Robb would've insisted otherwise. "Your sayings are odd, so pardon us if we do not understand initially."

To his surprise, Archie's voice _perfectly_ imitated his Scottish-like accent, "By my grace, you are pardoned of your crimes."

He burst out laughing at that, "Impressive!"

With his natural accent, he said, "Thanks. I take pride in my voice." And it was true, it was in fact the most truthful statement about himself he's made yet. "Give me some time and I'll get your accent _and_ your voice pegged down."

Given how self-deprecating Archie's been, imagine how believable that one, self-praising statement must've been. It was clear to Robb he didn't boast easily. "Is mimicry all your voice is capable of? Can you sing, perhaps?"

He shrugged, "Eh…" before gesturing his hand in a so-so manner, "I'm not bad, I'd say. Tell you what; if you ever hear me sing, you can be the judge of that."

The rest of their short walk was a comfortable and easy one (even with the dirt ground that Archie had yet to get fully used to seeing everywhere), as Robb proved to be polite but knew when to crack a joke, not to mention being from medieval times, and Archie, someone from another world greater and more advances than Robb's, was probably the most eccentric man the former had met. It was a delightful experience for the both of them. Their conversation had however ended when they passed the open gate and Archie once again saw the training grounds, this time from its midst it rather than overlooking it.

To the right of his vision were the bleachers and benches that overlooked two sparring guards, one of them significantly younger and beardless. Whiskers shouted instructions and pointers, criticizing any and all mistakes made (the young one was bellowed at more, predictably). In front of him was the bow range where several guards and Theon stood, letting loose arrows like hounds of death. Greyjoy's was most deadly and he made it apparent with a few boasts and a cocky stance, with a side of unnecessary bows after the arrows that hit exceptionally true. As arrogant as the Stark's ward might've been during his first impression with Archie, he wasn't going to pretend Greyjoy was doing anything other than messing with his friends.

To the left, he saw Jon with the younger Stark girl, the former intent on teaching a training dummy a lesson and the latter chattering away atop the barrel on which she sat. She wore a casual dress, if one could call it that. At the very least, he presumed it wasn't going to be used during a feast like the one they were soon having.

It went without saying that Archie knew the four that came with him to his house better than he did the girl. Her attempts to question him during his first and so far only breakfast with the Starks was quickly dejected by her mother's scolding.

He almost felt sorry for the kid, but the hunger coupled with recovering from an arrow wound didn't help spark his empathy.

Regardless, he knew nothing about her. But then, he knew very little about anyone in this place, so maybe this was a time to start remedying that.

"Theon!" Robb called out. As soon as Archie met his eyes, he seemed to know why Robb called him and placed the bow leaning against the weapons stand beside him and the arrow in the adjacent quiver. When he strode to them, he held his hand out (hesitantly, though; he wasn't sure about Archie's attitude toward him yet).

"A pleasure…" Without hesitation was it accepted, and this bewildered Theon clearly, though he quickly recovered.

"Likewise." Archie smiled. "How's the ear?"

Greyjoy grumbled, "Better."

"So… Next time you'd rather look the fool?"

He gave a snort. "I'd sooner go deaf than cast away my pride."

"Oh, well, I can't help but respect such dedication," was the sarcastic reply given.

"I'd best be respected for it, lest pride lose its meaning."

 _Everyone has their delusions. So, this is yours. That pride warrants respect?_

"Come," interjected Robb, smiling at seeing the two get along significantly better than previous circumstances. He gestured his head to Jon and the girl. Their backs had been facing them, and so their surprise was expected when Archie was the one to give his greetings first.

"Jon!"

The girl gasped at the odd accent with a spin of her head to their direction, her grey eyes (which Archie noticed were identical to Jon's) widening as well as her mouth, giving her that trending goldfish look he'd been getting these past few days.

Duckface, eat your heart out.

 _Must be my strong, piercing, yet sensitive eyes._ Jon's reaction was similar barring the gasp, and his head spun around so quickly in surprise Archie thought it might've snapped or at the very least cracked.

The two stared silently at him whilst he stood there with his arms spread happily, a false smile plastered on his face. After a short silence, he began speaking slowly, "…This is the part where you say, 'Oh, Archer, I've missed you, my bestest friend in the world'."

The joke seemed to shake the two out of their little conscious coma, and Jon looked embarrassed, to which Greyjoy snorted. Archie's false smile was gone and now there was a neutral look in its stead. "Forgive me. I hadn't expected you until the feast, much less appearing behind me as I'm training while the sun's yet to fall from the sky."

 _Good god, do they have to talk so fancy?_ "Well, surprise. Had nothing better to do, and I thought it was about time we meet each other as two human beings, not as escort and escorted," he said and gestured to Jon and himself respectively.

"I see. Understandable. I suppose." Jon clearly didn't know anything to say, so Archie spoke instead.

"You know what? Let's start over completely now that I'm not being surrounded by you all like you're guarding me." He held out his hand to Jon. "Hi, name's Archer. Call me Archie."

All present traded odd glances – Robb also smiled, taking a great liking to his antics – yet Jon proved too polite to remain still and took the offered hand. "Jon Snow. Call me Jon…"

He turned to Robb. "Archie."

"Robb."

"Archie."

"Theon Greyjoy."

It had been a curt gesture, but they appreciated it nonetheless. Their liking to the outlander only grew, and it did so effortlessly by Archie. He glanced at the girl and noticed her biting her lip. _She does that a lot._ He'd seen her only once, so he assumed she did so whenever she was nervous or embarrassed. He wasn't sure, however.

To their surprise, the girl's chiefly, he stepped forward to where she sat on the barrel and held out her hand. "We only met once, right? So I guess this is a newer start than with these three," he pointed out, gesturing his head to the three behind him. "Hi, I'm Archer. You can call me Archie if you like."

He hoped the gesture was a pleasantly surprising one rather than unpleasantly, because she froze for a time, staring at him with wide eyes. When her hand slowly reached to accept his, he suddenly pulled away, and she was taken aback until she saw his expression, which turned her shock to confusion. "Wait," he said, turning to the three. "It's not inappropriate for a guy to shake hands with a girl with you people, is it?" ' _You people'? Really, Archie? Thank god political correctness doesn't exist here, or I'd be fucked._ He barely survived it back home.

Robb shrugged, "I wouldn't say so. Especially considering your… situation. It's fine."

"Oh," came the sudden response of relief, and just as quickly as he'd pulled away did he reach out his hand again. "Sorry about that. Like I said, name's Archie."

Her hand gingerly accepted his; probably out of shyness, he guessed. "A-Arya… Arya Stark. Pleasure to meet you, Archer – I mean Archie!"

His eyebrows jumped at her nervous exclamation, and when Greyjoy chuckled at her unfortunate embarrassment, he looked back with a frown. "Don't laugh so openly, that's rude. And you two, wipe those smirks of your faces," he said to Jon and Robb. They tried to not take offence, though it was easier for the half-brothers not to than Theon.

As if nothing happened and like Arya wasn't blushing out of embarrassment, he faced her again, "Call me whatever you like. You prefer Archie, call me Archie. Archer, call me Archer. Like I told Robb, no need to force it."

She nodded hesitantly, "Okay."

"Yeah, I remember your name now. I forgot. Thought it was something like Yara." Seeing her downcast eyes, he realized his unintentional mistake, "Don't take offense, Arya. I'm not good with names."

"Oh…"

He smirked, "You don't seem to believe me."

"No, it's… you seemed to remember my father and brothers' names. And Theon's."

"Arya," said Robb, perhaps to scold her, though Archie wouldn't count on it. Most likely, he was trying to spare his little sister's feelings from being hurt.

"No, no, it's alright," Archie said. "You wanna know why I remembered theirs?" She nodded, and unlike what her brother mistook her feelings for, she was actually curious instead of hurt. It was her shy tone that made her sound discouraged and blue. Archie knew better though. He could see the childlike energy in her eyes. "The entire time I was captured, I heard their conversations for the duration of the entire ride. You know, up until we got ambushed. Anytime one of them would say stupid shit, the others, or Lord Stark, most of the time, would say, ' _Jon, be quiet_ ', or ' _Shut up, Robb_ ', or ' _No one likes you, Theon_ '."

Maybe it was his purposely horrible imitation (purposely because he did actually take pride in his voice) of her father, or what he said, but it made her giggle. Jon and Robb joined in with their laughter when Theon jokingly told Archie to piss off. The latter's smile reassured them he wasn't angered.

When the noise died down, he clasped his hands and rubbed them together while looking around, "So… What do you guys do here? I mean, in general. It's pretty obvious you'd go _here_ to train. But what's your usual routine. I was always fascinated with the routine of younger nobles and what they did during their days; what they trained on."

Robb was the one that spoke, "Perhaps we should be seated for this conversation. I have a feeling it will take some time and no doubt tire our legs should we stand."

The others agreed and Archie shrugged. "Fine by me."

And so they went to the bleachers (yes, Archie was adamant on calling it that until he knew better) and sat. Archie and Robb sat in the same row, the former facing the latter with one leg splayed out on the space next to him and the other hanging lazily. His elbow was fixed on the back of the bench with him leaning his head into his hand, fingers messing his hair wild, and he was seated sideways. Some of them looked at him odd, but said nothing. It wasn't the weirdest thing he's done, or will do for that matter.

Arya was seated on the row behind them next to Jon, and Theon sat on the row in front of them, seated almost as leisurely as Archie, and was keen on turning his head to the side when he would speak instead of actually facing them.

Archie was the one to start their conversation, "So, about my question. What do you usually do? And I'm not talking about breakfast or bathing or sleeping. I'm curious what it is your duties consist of, what you train on. Now, who wants to go first?"

Surprisingly, Jon spoke up first. It was surprising because he spoke to suggest Robb start first. "You're the heir of the entire castle. You would have the most to say."

"Fair enough," was the redhead's response. "As you can gather from the sights about you, I come here practice on my aim with a bow, and to whet my swordsmanship as one would a sword itself. Ser Rodrik there," He turned to point to Whiskers, who Archie now knew to be named Ser Rodrik, "is my tutor in manners of warfare, alongside my father."

"And by warfare, I'm guessing you mean tactics and strategies? Like battlefield strategies?"

"Amongst other such stuff, yes. We are also trained in warfare of attrition and tactical values of, say, a keep that contains a mine, or an alternative keep nearby should I find myself there during a war. Your statement also holds truth, as we're trained in knowing the strengths and weaknesses of each existing archetypes in the armies of the Seven Kingdoms."

"We?"

"Pardon?"

"You said 'we'. Who else do you train with? Don't tell me that little kid brother of yours is being taught at his age to kill?"

Robb's brows rose, "You mean Bran? Gods, no. I meant Jon, Theon, and I."

Archie frowned in confusion and surprise, looking at Jon on the row behind him (or rather, beside him, considering how he sat.) "Bastards are allowed to train alongside the firstborn?" That surprised them all, since they had been given the impression Archie didn't care about bastardy. And he didn't.

"Um… Yes." His answer was uncertain. "It depends fully on the lord or guardian who hires the tutor, but yes. I am allowed by Lord Stark."

"Who is your father, right?"

There was a silence before, "Yes."

"Oh. Don't take it the wrong way. I'm just surprised. Maybe I overestimated the stigma against bastards." He turned back to Robb.

"No," said Jon before anyone else could speak. It caught Archie's attention and his eyes. "You underestimated Lord Stark's kindness."

"You don't say…" He shrugged suddenly, and turned back to the firstborn Stark. "Anyways, so, uh… Shit, what was his name? I heard it literally a minute ago… Uh… Whiskers, he trained you all?"

"Whiskers?" asked Theon. "You mean Ser Rodrik."

"Rodrik! That's his name; Rodrik. Thank you. He trained you three for how long?"

Robb replied, "Since we were old enough to learn. Winterfell is his home as much as it's ours. How did you know he called his beard whiskers?"

"Heard him call someone Whiskers." He nodded to Theon. "Remember? When you tied me up? And not in the fun way? Wasn't hard figuring out who he was talking about after seeing Rodrik."

They were at a loss as to what he meant by 'the fun way' except for Theon, who snorted. _Guy knows how to party,_ Archie thought to himself in amusement. Regardless, Robb gave an understanding nod.

The outlandish teenager turned to Jon, "So do you basically do everything your brother does?"

"Outside of learning how to govern, yes."

As if recalling something, he blurted out, "Oh, yeah. You can't inherit, can you?"

"No."

Archie understood Jon's confused tone. It was probably common knowledge, and to have to explain something so obvious was unusual. It might even prove to be unintentionally encouraging for Jon, not that it mattered to him.

Already having the previous topic out of his head freed Archie to recall something. "By the way, where's the master?"

Everyone was confused at that. Arya spoke, and was pleased when his eyes immediately met hers, "Ser Rodrik is the master-at-arms."

"What? No, the master."

"What master?" asked Robb.

"Fucking… Louis, or whatever his name was – the guy who pulled the arrow outta my shoulder and then roofied me with that 'poppy' shit."

"Maester Luwin!" Arya said in realization, though the others looked like they came to the same conclusion. Arya was quicker on the tongue.

"Maest-… Maester?" They nodded. "What the fuck kinda title is that? That sounds made up, not to mention ugly. What an ugly title."

"It is very much real," said Robb.

"Huh… so, what, he's a doctor?"

"As maesters are often. Though it should be said they are mainly scholars. Luwin is more knowledgeable than even most maesters, so he is skilled in healing as well as history and many other things. He is a smart man, and I think he would be more than elated to make your acquaintance. Properly, this time."

"What does that mean?" Arya asked curiously.

Archie scratched his neck at that. "I, uh… I might've said some things I regret, things that sort of just slipped during the heat of the moment. And by the moment, I mean the moment he pushed the arrow head fully through my shoulder and snapped the tip off before pulling the rest of the shaft out."

"What did you say?"

"No," affirmed Robb. "I was there, and I would not hear them again."

Archie only looked sheepish; what he said was wrong, even by his offensive standards. "Yeah, that's kinda the reason I wanted to talk to him. I feel obligated to apologize and thank him."

"I'm sure he would appreciate it – and you should know he harbors no ill will for what you said, shockingly enough – he is busy planning the feast with my father and mother."

"When is he free?" He almost cringed at that. _Of course I'd make it sound like I was dating the motherfucker._

"Ofttimes after we break our fast–" _There's that retarded medieval language I've missed,_ "he holds lessons. If you come tomorrow and ask any servant for directions, they'll take you to where you wish to go."

"Can I get, like a guide dog? 'Cause I might as well be considered blind; Winterfell's built like a fucking maze, and honestly, I'm too big of a fucking dumbass to remember."

They laughed, and what was meant to be an informative conversation turned to small talk and Archie cracking jokes. It wasn't long before they were interrupted, however, by a fat guy clad in the trademark armor of the Stark household guard. He was panting and his red face was bordered by thick ginger muttonchops much like Rodrik except not as thick. His phenomenal physical conditioning showed when he walked up the stairs to their seats, and all that filled Archie's ears was the man's heavy breathing like the inconsistent rumbling of an old engine. _Judging by his fat ass, this is probably a perpetual state for this dude._ Archie was surprised, though not necessarily displeased when, instead of arriving at his seat, he stopped on the row behind him, where Arya and Jon sat.

"Lady Arya, your mother's been looking for you, and I came's soon's I could, just like you asked." He greeted everyone else afterwards.

He seemed to be the only one that didn't notice Arya hiss, " _Shite_." Robb hissed back at her to watch her tongue in front of guests, as ironic as the statement must have been, considering their guest.

"Thank you, Tom," she said with a fake smile, "You can go now."

He bowed respectfully and took his leave. _Wish I had servants back home that bowed when I dismissed them_ (Archie knew he wouldn't enjoy it as much as he thought, but the prospect of living like a king always seemed appealing until you thought about it).

Archie turned to face with one eyebrow raised at her shift in mood, as she know seemed suddenly eager to get out of there, "What was that about, exactly?"

She smiled sheepishly, and Robb looked at her with disapproving eyes whilst Theon just shook his head smiling and Jon remained quiet. "I'm not actually supposed to be here. Mother wouldn't approve." She seemed especially nervous admitting this to Archie, for some reason (because she still had no idea as to his attitude towards women, but he didn't know that). Robb sighed like he knew whatever he intended to say to her would be futile.

He had to point one thing out, however. "You do know Tom's going to be the one to suffer from this?"

"Wasn't it his choice to help her out?" Archie asked, and shrugged at Robb's glance, "Just saying."

Theon shot him that smug fucking smirk of his again. "Fat Tom's easiest guard to fool in Winterfell."

 _Fucking 'Fat Tom'? What is this, a mafia movie?_ His head swayed in a so-so gesture. "Eh, a bit on the nose, but it's accurate, I guess."

Arya frowned, and said almost angrily, "No he's not, mother will realize I tricked him into telling me and get angry at me. She's not stupid."

He then recalled the previous subject of conversation, and turned to the youngest Stark girl. "Where are you supposed to be, exactly?"

Her ire was now gone and she bit her lip again. "Preparing for the feast."

"Huh… well, good thing that's exactly what you were doing."

That confused them all, and they turned to him in confusion, though Theon caught on the quickest. Arya was the most puzzled, and froze. "W-what? What are you talking about?"

"Or whatever else it was you were doing; we wouldn't know, would we?" he asked the three guys. "Not like we saw you here. Right, guys?" Her eyes widened, and she smiled excitedly when glancing around she saw Jon nod, Robb sigh yet agree, and Theon shrug. _There we go,_ he thought, seeing the recognition in her eyes. _Now you get it._ He nodded to the side, "Go on, get out of here."

She grinned at him, "Thank you."

"Bounce!" he urged, though his smile was acceptance enough of her gratitude.

Nimble as a cat, she ran up to where he had been taken during his tour overlooking the yard the day before, and disappeared behind the corner when he blinked. Archie looked at Jon, "Hey, sit here with us, if you don't mind. My neck's startin' to hurt from having to turn all the time."

Archie couldn't help but wonder if Jon complied out of politeness, or if he was too shy, or socially anxious, or even scared to refuse.

He attempted to start another conversation by asking about the guards' spar under Rodrik's supervision, and while it wasn't a failed attempt, the conversation was short-lived as he spotted with a glance Lady Stark walking with grace he had to respect (This was more than how he imagined a true lady of medieval times would carry themselves), but it was only a single glance, and he kept the spar in his sights and Lady Stark in his peripheral.

She had spotted them not long after and walked up the steps, greeting them as she did, her attention chiefly on Archie (he also noticed she gave a subtle glare to Jon, who was now seated in the row in front of him), "I welcome you, Archer. It is good to see you again."

He smiled politely and stood, leaning forward with his hand reached out, "Likewise, Lady Stark." Her surprise was only known for a fraction of a second, though the pleasantness of said surprise annexed any other emotion and expression on her face.

And if it was inappropriate in their customs to shake hands with a _married_ lady, he wouldn't know from their reaction, and Lady Stark's was the least telling of this possible taboo as she accepted his hand without hesitance. "I am pleased to see you're better rested than yesterday."

He sat down, "Yeah, me too, believe it or not." She smiled at the comment. "By the way, I never got the chance to thank you for being as patient as you were. It was all kinda stressful, but you went out of your way to make me feel comfortable, and that fact isn't lost to me. Thank you."

She smiled motherly, and Archie had never felt more comfortable in this world than in that moment; sadly, that moment lasted not long at all as she said, "Of course. I trust these three have been good company?" whilst her eyes seemed to shift when looking over Jon, who had been averting his eyes to the sparring in the field. The comfortability and warmth from his body vanished like someone had doused him in water, and as Archie hated little else than tension during what was meant to be enjoyable moments, he went for humor as a distraction.

"No," he said unexpectedly in a dry tone, and she looked to him, "Horrible, these guys."

She smiled and Robb chuckled. Archie had almost forgotten about Arya, but Lady Stark was kind enough to remind him when she asked, "Forgive me for bothering you with such trivialities, but I must ask; have you seen Arya?"

The other three were not as experienced in lying; because immediately did Theon's eyes join the sight Jon's had, where two new guards took their stance on Rodrik's orders, and everyone kept silent out of not knowing what to say without fucking up, but at least Robb kept his calm, not looking away. Archie frowned gently, "Arya?" Before Lady Stark could answer, his eyes widened, "Oh, shit, yeah; your daughter, right? The youngest one?" He took on a pensive expression.

Lady Stark nodded, though she looked odd – not uncomfortable, though – at his swearing, "Yes, you have seen her?"

Pretending he was broken out of his fake thoughts, he did a double take at her, "Hm? Oh, no. Haven't seen her. At least not today."

She looked disappointed, and a bit frustrated. _Maybe Arya's got a habit of being slippery._ "I see…" She sent Robb an inquisitive look, but received a negative gesture.

"Sorry if I mislead you. I'm just not good with names, and I thought her name was something like Yara. That's why I reacted like I did; hearing you say her name reminded me again."

"It's no cause for vexation. Do not fret, Archer."

"Mind if I ask why you're looking for her?"

She sighed, "She was dismissed from her lessons today so that she may have time to prepare for the feast, but I've yet to even catch sight of the girl."

"Oh. Yeah, sorry. Can't help you there."

"No need for apologies. Now I must go and find Arya; take care, and until we meet again."

He nodded to her wordlessly but with respect in his eyes, and she lingered almost too long – maybe they expected him to say something, but he didn't – before she took her leave with the single guard she came with.

"She will find out we lied to her when she decides to question Fat Tom, or even anyone here that saw her," said Robb when her footsteps faded into the wind. "Few of the guards feel obligated lying to their liege's lady for Arya's sake, and Ser Rodrik is too earnest a man."

He waved it off with a gesture. "I'm not worried. Arya didn't do anyone any harm, and seeing as how many are still training and sparring in the _mud_ ," he said, truthfully disgusted with the lack of clean cement roads; even changing his footwear to boots didn't change how dirty the place was., "I doubt the feast is starting soon. While your mom has been nothing less than kind to me, she might just be stricter to her own kids, and I didn't wanna take that chance. Besides, how much time did Arya really waste? Or maybe it's the principle of it; lying to Lady Stark can't look good for me."

With how much of an idiot Archie was, he wasn't insulted to see them turning to him with curiosity when he gave that astute observation. They stared, Theon and Jon with some modicum of surprise, but Robb had actually looked expectant, as if he was going to come up with a solution should he be confronted with his lie. Archie might've shook his head thinking ' _Hasn't he learned anything about my dumbass yet_ ', but he had to give himself and Robb some credit, seeing as how he _did_ have an idea on how to placate Lady Stark.

"If it comes to us butting heads over this small an issue, I'll just explain to her how I explained it to you. With how understanding your mom is, I doubt she'd go out of her way to get angry at me for covering Arya's escape. Even if she did, trust me when I say your mother's annoyance is the least of my worries, considering. I'm more concerned with ending up decapitated because I said some stupid shit to the wrong person and couldn't help it." Until now, his gaze had been on the field before him, but he finally turned to the three sitting with him, "You wanna know the truth? I know for a fact I would be dead if I didn't end up in Eddard Stark's vicinity. I got lucky ending up with him, and not to mention you guys. And honestly, I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop."

They had looked predictably confused at the saying, so he elaborated. "I'm waiting to fuck up. To annoy you guys until you decide I'm not worth the trouble. That's the type of shit I'm in; I'm in a culture where a servant might get his fucking throat slit for accidentally spilling some wine on his lord's clothes. My father might have been one of the most powerful men in the world where I'm from, but here, the name Wilder means jack-shit. I open my big mouth and say the wrong thing like the dumb fuck I am, I might very well get shanked."

His short rant had ended with the three of them staring at him, stunned, previously ignorant to his worries. Archie was just surprised to see Theon react in a way that didn't involve him making a show of not giving a shit.

Robb spoke and tried to soothe his worries, "I hadn't realized you were this worried, Archer… Perhaps your words hold some measure of truth, but know this: you are under the Stark's protection. You are right to say you are lucky to have landed here. Even had we as a family been… impatient with your ways, your behavior, which we are not–"

"Speak for yourself," interrupted Greyjoy and was met with a glare from Robb that surprised even him, no matter if he was Robb's senior.

"Which we are _not_ ," he emphasized warningly, and returned his eyes to Archie. "Our father alone would protect you. He is a truly honorable man, and he has taught us to be the same. He answers only to the king himself, and is the liege to all the North, and the lords native to this country. You are lucky, yes, but that is enough. Fret not about such things, Archer. Know you are safe under our roof. The uniqueness and rarity of your position alone, the circumstance of your arrival, the fact that you are more advanced than we could ever have imagined, much less fathomed, would warrant our protection. But you saved my life. There is not a man, woman, or child in the North that hasn't heard, and there is no one but you who seems to have forgotten what you did. That is more than enough."

Archie himself showed no reaction, but know that he was surprised. The silence after Robb's reassurance was broken by him. "So what are you saying? I'm under your protection?" Robb nodded. "What if your patience runs out? There's gonna come a day when you just won't be able to stand with my bullshit?"

Theon snorted out, "Good question," but did so with a surprisingly friendly tone that put a smile on Archie's face.

Robb was the one to answer said question, however, "As I said, considering your circumstances, it is understandable for you to behave as you do."

"And if I told you this is how I act all the time?"

"Then I suppose we are fucked."

Archie's eyes widened in surprise, but chuckled genuinely at Robb's smile, a smile evoked when he got a reaction out of the outlander boy.

He'd yet to give his genuine answer, and all four knew this. "If this is who you are, how you show yourself to the world… then so be it. But I'm no child. We know of you as much as you know of us. I believe when we come to know each other, we might see each other differently. I'm casting no judgement until then."

"Easier said than done."

"There is naught easy with life in the North, Archer. But it is our life regardless."

Archie'd finally taken his word for it, nodding slowly with acceptance. And that was when he realized again how much time he spent worrying rather than opening his eyes to the fucking obvious. It wasn't just the son of the lord whose land he'd been tossed in by god knows what or who, it was the heir of a Lord Paramount.

Remembering how he'd done it, and how the piercing pain was like no other he'd ever felt before, his hand wandered absently to inside his t-shirt collar (he'd left the eagle jacket at home) and his fingers brushed over the round, rouge, crooked scar. It felt so much like a scab, but there was no ripping the fucking thing off, unless he wanted to claw open the wound after tearing the stitching out, so he had to resist the urge to scratch it with his fingernails. Feeling its ridged texture under his fingertips disgusted him, but he couldn't stop.

"How has your wound healed?" Surprisingly enough it was Greyjoy who asked the question.

Archie's head snapped in his direction, "It's, uh… it's recovered well enough. But the thing's gonna scar, looks like. At least the pain is gone." He pulled down his collar to expose the red scar.

Jon stared in silence with a frown, and Robb said, "Even Maester Luwin's baffled at your speed of recovery."

He scoffed, letting the collar slip past his fingers and to their place around his collarbone. "Trust me, he's not the only one. I mean, it's no shock it's gonna scar – it went _through_ the back of my fuckin' shoulder. But I'd have thought the recovery process would've had me aching and hurting for more than a day after I got patched up. Not to mention, the flesh acts like it hadn't been touched. Just look at this!" He rolled and shifted his shoulder's position with as much ease as though he'd never even been scratched by that arrow.

Their shocked expressions had him making a double take before frowning, "Alright, no need to pop your eyes outta your heads, it's not _that_ shocking… I think?" Their continued looks of amazement unnerved him.

"No," said Jon, "It is. You do realize you can remove the stitches now, no?"

"Uh… I've never had stitches before, so no. Wait, seriously?" he asked, as if only now realizing what he'd just heard. "Why? How?"

"We can only speak for the first question. The purpose for stitching is to close an open wound to help it heal. Yours has already healed to where not even such excessive movement opens it. As to how, it is a mystery to us all."

"Huh… Well, I'm not about to complain. But I'm gonna ask this Louis of yours some questions when I meet him."

"Luwin," corrected all three simultaneously.

"Luwin! Whatever! The guy's got enough drugs to be called Louis anyways."

"Who is this Louis you keep mentioning?" asked Robb.

"A black guy who loves pills." The answer did nothing to alleviate their confusion. "Nevermind. It's an old meme."

They didn't bother asking what a 'meme' was, but neither would they have been given the chance. Archie stood up suddenly, "Anyways, I'm gonna get my skinny ass home and watch some porn to get the nervousness outta my system. Then I'm gonna take a shower and make my way back here."

"You intend to watch what?"

"Pornography. Don't worry about it, come in contact with the internet and you'll find out soon enough."

He held up a flat hand in a gesture of farewell, one they returned (Theon's had to be more lax than others', of course), and he turned around and made his way back the same path he came. And they heard him shout only one thing before he was truly out of their sight.

"Just keep away from the furry shit unless you wanna be traumatized!"

"Oh, seven hells," exclaimed Theon, frustratred, "Does the man intend on explaining anything that he speaks?"

Jon's quiet voice almost went unheard, "You'll have your answer in the feast."

And so would Arya, he recalled. _Poor, poor Archer._

* * *

 **A/N: Finally, I could write again. High-school is fucking stressful, that's all I'll say.**

 **So the feast is next chapter, and I intend for that chapter to be about Archer having some fun during the feast, answering some of the more mundane and trivial questions the GOT characters have, and the day after will also be included in the chapter, where Archie will be properly introduced to Luwin.**

 **IMPORTANT NOTE:**

 **Before I get on with the reviews, I'm gonna warn anyone who has read this story thus far. Archer will have my humor, and it will be EXTREMELY OFFENSIVE. I'm talking, really offensive, because this will also be in character considering some that he grew up with (a childhood friend and one of his fathers, which will be explained as the story progresses), so if anyone has a problem with racist, sexist, or just plain offensive jokes, don't read this story. I won't be an edgelord and joke about controversial topics that are trending or about politics, 'cause that'll just spark idiotic arguments, and anyone looking to start shit can fuck off, quite frankly. This humor is meant to add to Archie's character, and to make both the readers and the characters of the story laugh, not to bring forth my personal opinions or to humor bullshit discussions on the internet.**

 **I repeat: be warned, there will be no political correctness in this story.**

 **Now, on to the reviews:**

 **Fapman (great name): The story has started a couple of months, almost a year, before canon, so he'll have some time.**

 **cdog21: Oh, uh... Thanks.**

 **Rodulu5: It's limited to the car, bike, and house.**

 **Until next time.**


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